


The Paths of Glory

by fivethingsunmixed



Series: Dark Justice AU [3]
Category: Persona 4, Persona 5
Genre: AU, AU: Good!Akechi, AU: No Personas, AU: villain phantom thieves, F/F, F/M, Gen, Investigation Team v Phantom Thieves plot, M/M, Occasional fluff, Slow Burn, cat and mouse plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:40:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 32,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivethingsunmixed/pseuds/fivethingsunmixed
Summary: Ten years after the Phantom Thieves horrified all of Tokyo with their murder spree, Naoto Shirogane gathers her friends and tries to tackle the case. But in a world without Persona, there's no guarantee everyone will end up sane, safe, or in the state they started out...





	1. Living in Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> Any differences between here and the epilogue of P4: Golden are deliberate. Also, this fic is a lot more slow burn than the last two and is also my first attempt at something resembling thriller/mystery, so criticism is welcome, but be gentle.  
> Also yes, I am a strange person who is a prolific multishipper for P5 but only really ships Kanji/Naoto in P4. You're just going to have to deal with the oddity.

“Hello?” Yu’s voice hadn’t changed over the years, and it always gave Naoto the same feeling; like wrapping up in a security blanket on a rainy day.

“It’s Shirogane,” she said.

“Naoto,” his voice warmed, “What’s going on?”

“I need your help, and possibly everyone else’s.”

“Uh...sure,” It wasn’t often Naoto had the pleasure of totally wrongfooting Yu, but every instance was a grand one, “Um...why?”

She sighed.

“I’m working a cold case, so my resources are limited.”

“A cold case?” Yu was audibly surprised, “Why?”

“A variety of reasons, some to do with Kanji…”

“He finally got sick of you working the beat?”

“Not in so many words, but yes. More pertinently, it was a request from...an acquaintance.”

There was a pause. In the background, Naoto could hear the cheerful noise of Inaba’s police department, and Chie’s yell for coffee.

“What are you not telling me, Naoto?” Yu finally said. She sighed. She’d hoped to avoid this, but…

“The cold case I’m taking...it’s the Phantom Thieves.”

Judging by the variety of incoherent noises, Naoto would guess that Yu had been mid-gulp of his coffee when she finished her sentence, and had nearly choked it out before painfully forcing it down.

“Are you...Naoto, are you  _ absolutely fucking insane _ ?”

“That seems to be the general diagnosis,” replied Naoto wearily.

She could practically hear the cogs in Yu’s head whirring.

“I’ll talk to Dojima-san. Chie is finishing up a case, but I’m between, so I’ll be with you immediately - you’ve helped us out enough that he’ll grumble, but won’t have too much trouble loaning the two of us to you, and god knows I’ll need experience with the Tokyo police when Dojima finally gets around to retiring.”

Naoto smiled. Dojima had taken over the Inaba police force not long after the serial murders in Inaba had ended, and had complained every day since about wanting to retire. Now that Yu and Chie were training under him, common belief was that he was waiting for Yu to finish up to take over as Police Commissioner for Inaba and Chie as Chief Detective; Chie had still yet to acquire Yu’s silver tongue, even in her early thirties.

“In the meantime, I’ll get Chie to contact the others. You and me can make a start on this, say, day after tomorrow? I’ll need that long to convince Dojima-san that it was  _ his _ idea all along.”

Naoto laughed, bid Yu luck, and hung up.

“Sounds like that went well,” said a voice behind her.

With a smile, she turned to Kanji, her partner ( _ not _ husband - she wasn’t quite ready for that yet) of too long to count.

“We’ll have Narukami day after tomorrow, and can make a start,” she told him, stretching as she stood, frowning as her back clicked and creaked, “Why does nobody ever mention getting old  _ hurting _ ?”

Kanji grinned.

“You make it look good, though.”

Naoto blushed; he’d come a long way from the young man who was barely able to speak to her without stammering incoherently.

“I  _ do _ wish you’d let your hair go back to black,” she said running a fond hand through his bleached hair, “I mean, I love you however, but you scare the kids at the police station whenever there’s a get together.”

“Ain’t that the point?” he tugged her into a hug, nuzzling at her ear, “The Renowned Former Detective Prince oughtta have a scary boyfriend to help you frighten those new recruits!” With the sudden change in topic and tone Naoto had gotten used to over the years, Kanji suddenly said, “I’m glad you’re off the beat, Naoto.”

Naoto sighed.

“I am too, Kanji, but quite seriously, this case may be the most frightening one I’ve tackled since Inaba.”

“But it’s cold, right?” said Kanji, leaning against the doorway.

“I don’t think that means much.” A frown was forming on Kanji’s forehead, “I promise, Kanji, this is for a friend. Let me handle this case and then we can settle down and stop worrying. I’ll ride a desk, not a car.”

He pulled her closer, and Naoto heard in her hair Kanji’s voice muffled: “You dumbass.”

And if she was crying a bit while laughing well, no one had to know but Kanji.

-

“So where do we start?” was Yu’s first question when he arrived at their apartment.

His second question was, “What the fuck?”

“I’m getting ready for a show,” mumbled Kanji through a mouthful of pins as he draped fabric over a mannequin, “Don’t you remember? It’s the one me and Rise-chan are running.”

“Oh, god, yes, now I remember,” replied Yu, “But...um...why does this necessitate your apartment looking like a small storm blew threw it?”

This was only mild exaggeration. From the entrance hallway to the small studio to half the living room, the flat was plastered with what appeared to be measures of textiles and clothing in various stages of completion. There even appeared to be a drying rack hung with newly-dyed cotton, which would explain the myriad of dye stains on Kanji’s nails, a Japanese-style loom in one corner and a spinning wheel in another. Kanji was taking this show seriously to the point of obsession.

“This’s my side of the apartment. Naoto’s in hers. She don’t come in here, or she starts having an aneurysm,” Kanji chuckled, a dangerous activity for a man with a mouth full of sharp objects.

“...it’s including the entrance hallway.”

“Yup,” replied Kanji, pinning what appeared to be a sleeve in place.

“...how does she get in and out?”

Kanji grinned, “Quickly.”

“Narukami-san?” called Naoto, “In here.”

“See ya, sempai,” said Kanji, “Look after her.”

“Always do, Kanji.”

Yu wandered into the living room where there did indeed seem to be a division of space; half of it devoted to Kanji’s madness, and, so strictly divided there was practically a line drawn down the centre, Naoto’s madness. A corkboard with photos of the Phantom Thieves’ crimes had already been erected, along with dates and names of witnesses. Naoto herself sat at the table, sipping miso soup and reading from a hefty manilla folder. Without looking up she idly motioned for Yu to join her.

“Soup? Tea? Coffee?” she asked, still engrossed in her reading.

“No, I’m fine,” he replied.

“Are you certain?” she asked, before looking up, seeing Kanji’s mess, and wincing, “It’s only to the end of the year,” she muttered.

“That’s the spirit,” replied Yu, “So, let’s try this again: Where are we starting?”

“Sae Niijima and Goro Akechi,” answered Naoto, “Shortly following their removal from the case, they were both placed under witness protection; with the murder of Masayoshi Shido, it was deemed too dangerous to allow them to live as their previous selves, so new identities were forged. Niijima-san is Tsugimoto Tokiko, and lives in Kanda; we’ll visit her first.”

“And Akechi? He was the next rising star, wasn’t he?” asked Yu, looking with interest at the file on Akechi.

Naoto sighed heavily.

“Akechi is currently MIA. Nobody has seen or heard from him since Niijima-san went into witness protection.”

Yu frowned.

“That’s...not good.”

The air lay heavy on the two for a moment.

“Well, let’s start with Kanda, then.”

-

“Are we...allowed to be here?” asked Yu suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to him.

“The information is in the file on the Phantom Thieves, so presumably, yes,” replied Naoto with a certain ease that told Yu she was lying through her teeth.

“Well, fuck,” was all he got out, before Naoto banged on the door.

It was opened by an attractive middle-aged woman; her dark hair was pulled back into a loose braid. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, by lack of sleep, and she had the wan look of someone who got very little sunlight. She wore only panties and a white shirt.

“Mm. What?” she asked.

“Tokiko-san, I am Naoto Shirogane from the Tokyo Precinct, and this is my aide, Yu Narukami. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Niijima was, contrary to her groggy appearance, not stupid or slow on the uptake. Her mouth tightened to a thin line, and she quickly hissed, “Get in!”

The apartment was tidy, but bare. The only signs of personality were a few pot plants. Wherever Niijima’s heart was, it wasn’t in this home.

She lit a cigarette, and led the two to a sparsely furnished living room.

“So,” she said, “You’re the latest in the string of calves thinking you can take on the case I failed?”

“I was asked to, Niijima-san,” replied Naoto.

“Straight to the slaughter,” said Niijima bitterly.

There was an uncomfortable silence, as her cigarette smoke filled the room, and Naoto and Yu tried to rethink a way to tackle approaching this clearly unhappy woman.

“What happened to Goro Akechi?” asked Yu.

Her head snapped up, and her eyes widened. For a moment, Yu thought she might strike him, but then her eyes filled with tears.

“He left,” she said, “Just...up and left. Said the case wasn’t solved. Said he wasn’t going to let this happen to me. I said I didn’t care anymore. But...he did. He…” A few tears tipped over her eyelashes onto her cheeks, and she smiled, “He used to look at me like that, you know. With the look the two of you have. Like everything was a puzzle, and if you just found the corners you’d solve it eventually.”

With a sniffle, she wiped at her cheeks.

“What can you tell us about the Phantom Thieves case?” asked Naoto gently.

There was a long pause, so long Naoto almost thought she’d almost forgot or ignored the question, when suddenly:

“They...they didn’t want to kill Okumura.”

Yu and Naoto stared blankly at Niijima.

“Akechi, he figured...they didn’t want to kill him. He also figured they gained...gained members with each murder. The Kamoshida murder...they had to have been related to Shujin to know of the abuses; the Madarame murder, they had to know Madarame in order to get access to him and know of the Saiyuri scandal; Medjed would require someone who knew Medjed’s members in order to doxx them; and the Okumura murder needed someone close enough to him to know of his political ambitions.”

Yu was almost overwhelmed by the onslaught of information, which was why it was Naoto who asked:

“And the Kaneshiro case?”

Niijima stared at her, unseeing.

“Did he come to any conclusion from the Kaneshiro murder?”

Her face changed and became less like a person’s face; more like a mask.

“No,” she said, “He didn’t come to any conclusions regarding Kaneshiro. Now I’d like it if you could please leave.”

-

“That wasn’t terribly helpful,” said Yu later, “We don’t even have any names.”

They were standing in Naoto’s apartment, this time with Kanji, staring at the corkboard.

“On the contrary,” replied Naoto, “I think Niijima told us a great deal more than she meant to.”

The two stared at her.

“In what way?”

“Akechi almost certainly had a suspicion about the Kaneshiro case. I know, because  _ I _ have a suspicion about the Kaneshiro case. In order for the Phantom Thieves to know about it, they would need access to police files. But Niijima didn’t tell us; in fact, when we pressed, she told us to leave.”

“You think she has a connection to the Phantom Thieves?” asked Kanji.

“Sae Niijima has a younger sister, Makoto,” replied Naoto, “Honors student, Student Council President; generally regarded as having a bright future ahead of her, if a bit lonely. So why, then, immediately after graduation did she go to work at a bar in the Shibuya area of Tokyo?”

“You think Makoto was the link the Phantom Thieves have to the police,” said Yu flatly, “And you think Niijima-san knows. It’s why she didn’t want Akechi investigating further, and it’s why she refused to tell us about the Kaneshiro case.”

“I think we should give Makoto’s work a preliminary check, don’t you?” said Naoto.

“I’m coming,” said Kanji flatly. Naoto smiled.

“I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

-

The sun was setting, and the neon lights over the bar read ‘Dulcinea’ in a particularly tacky shade of red. A man with spiky bleach blonde hair and dressed all in biker leathers loitered outside, acting the bouncer. He gave Kanji the nod of equals, and Yu and Naoto the looks of deep suspicion inherent to bouncers everywhere.

“Why do bouncers always give me that glare?” wondered Yu idly, hands in pockets.

“You’re too pretty; worried you’ll steal all the girls,” joked Kanji, somewhat absently, “Where’d Naoto get to?”

“I think she’s checking out the alleys around here,” said Yu.

“Seems fair.”

A languid man hung off the third floor penthouse. At this distance it was hard to make out features, but it seemed to Kanji he resembled the handsome young painter that had been being abused at the hands of master painter. Now that he thought of it, the delinquent-looking bouncer looked familiar, too. He was also giving them looks that said he was pondering whether it was worth the effort of beating the shit out of them.

Kanji did not feel it was worth the risk; Kanji might have a good foot and a half on the bouncer, but the bouncer was also younger, fitter and, judging by the scar tissue on his fists, was more than willing to fight nasty.

“We should get outta here,” said Kanji. Yu nodded, and the two turned to find Naoto...talking to a wall. To all appearances.

“Uh, Naoto?”

She started, and turned, shoving her hands quickly in her pockets, before joining them.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We should bail,” said Kanji.

“Yeah,” added Yu, “We don’t have a warrant, and mini-Kanji looks nervous.”

Kanji snorted, but Naoto nodded.

“All right, let’s go.”

-

“So, what’s next?” said Yu, “Yosuke says he’s free whenever, but the girls will need a bit of time.”

“Why not have the suspects go to them?” asked Kanji. Naoto and Yu looked at him, “I saw one of the guys from the folder - uh, Kitagawa? - isn’t he an artist?”

Naoto flipped through her files.

“Yes. In fact, he is the only pupil of Ichyruusai Madarame still practicing art.”

“Get Yukiko to contact his agent; have them put on a show in the penthouse suite of the Amagi Inn.”

Shocked, Naoto and Yu stared at him, to which Kanji rolled his eyes.

“Come  _ on _ . I spend half my  _ life _ organizing shows for my stuff. Yeah, sometimes the artist calls ahead to organize a venue, but frequently it’s the venue requesting the art. That’s what museum curators  _ do _ . Kitagawa-san will need some cute arm candy; put strong bets on whoever it is being another Phantom Thief.”

Yu thought for a second.

“If I get Chie to organize a plains clothes security detail, we can also make sure that she doesn’t have to do any undercover work; even she’ll admit it’s her weak spot.”

“Great! Get right on it, sempai!”

Yu vanished onto the balcony to call up Yukiko and Chie. Meanwhile, Naoto had That Look on her face.

“Naoto?” asked Kanji, “What is it?”

“It’s just...” said Naoto, looking through the folder of notes, “There’s something...strange here...something the police missed...something  _ Akechi and Niijima-san _ missed…”

“What?” asked Kanji, puzzled.

“The penultimate murder. It was a double-homicide, Sugimura and Okumura, claiming that Okumura was guilty of greed and insinuating Sugimura was guilty of abusing women.” Naoto could feel the shape of it now; it was like standing on the edge of a great cliff, the knowledge looming beneath her like something vast and dark and massive.

“Yeah, and that guy Goro told Niijima-san that there had to be a connection with Okumura because they knew about Okumura’s political aspirations. The police investigated the Okumura Corporation but didn’t find anything, you said,” replied Kanji.

“Yes, but... _ nobody investigated Sugimura _ ,” said Naoto, “There’s his file here. No complaints. No criminal record.  _ How would the Phantom Thieves know of his history if the police didn’t _ ?”

She saw it in Kanji’s eyes. Just as the idea was starting to form in her mind, he put it into words for her.

“You think the girl he abused was a Phantom Thief,” said Kanji flatly, “ _ That’s _ why they didn’t provide proof. If they did, she’d be investigated, and her link to them would be left wide open.”

“Yes,” replied Naoto, “And the fact that he was murdered in relation to Okumura makes me think that the girl he was abusing was the one girl the police took care not to interrogate too closely due to the political and financial ramifications,” Naoto reached into the file and brought out a photo, “Haru Okumura. Let Narukami and Yukiko handle Yusuke; we’ll handle her.”

There was a pause.

“Naoto?”

“Mm?”

“You are so hot to me right now.”

Naoto laughed, bright as bells, and grabbed Kanji by the front of his shirt.

“Well, when you put it that way…”

“You guys can’t even wait till I get to  _ bed _ ?” said Yu dryly.

-

It was the early hours of the morning. Kanji was still asleep, and Yu was still in the guest room, probably emailing Dojima.

Naoto reached into the trousers she’d worn for the trip to Dulcinea and removed what she’d placed there.

A USB stick.

Connecting it to her laptop, she bit her lip to keep from crying out in dismay at the photos.

Makoto Niijima. Haru Okumura. Ann Takamaki. Each of them on their way into Dulcinea, kissing and hugging; by the light it was early morning.

Each of them covered in blood.

Face hard, Naoto hit ‘print all’.

She was determined to have the upper hand when she met Okumura.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ The sickly taste in her mouth was from the chloroform, she was certain; other than that, she had no idea where she was. _

_ Stupid Naoto! She thought. Throwing herself into danger just to prove a point. Mitsuo Kubo couldn’t possibly be the killer. Morooka hadn’t been on TV. And there’d been that other thing, but every time she tried to mention it, she was sidelined by that detective… _

_ Oh, her head hurt so  _ **_much_ ** _. _

_ There was a grinding sound nearby. Trying to move her arms, she realized they were tied behind her back. _

_ Well...this probably wasn’t the  _ **_worst_ ** _ situation she’d been in but… _

_ She remembered that nobody knew she was here, and not even  _ **_she_ ** _ knew where ‘here’ was. _

_ Scratch that. _

_ This was  _ **_definitely_ ** _ the worst situation she’d ever been in. _


	2. Exhibitions and Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yusuke Kitagawa’s art comes to Inaba; Yukiko gets a surprise; Yu has a bad day; meanwhile Kanji and Naoto find the Okumura heiress a harder nut to crack than expected.

“So, how do I look?” asked Yu on the morning of the exhibition opening.

He was wearing a kimono of Kanji’s design -  _ “I think I got something think here that’ll fit ya, sempai” _ \- cream with geometric indigo designs running down it in a scalloped fashion, so that his shoulders and arms were entirely blue while his ankles were cream, and in between indigo and cream warred.

“You look  _ lovely _ ,” said Yukiko, smiling genuinely. Yu was pleased; more and more when he saw her she had what he privately referred to as her ‘Amagi-face’ on; a pleasant mask designed to appeal to her customer base, without letting any of her true nature show. It was a shame; Yukiko, oddities and all, was one of his favorite people.

In her early thirties, Yukiko had still not shed the floral patterns on her kimono, and Yu thought she looked delightfully feminine. Maybe, when this was over, they could give dating another go - see if they could make it work.

“Hey, you guys!” said a bright, cheerful voice. It was Chie. As befit somebody merely visiting the inn, rather than the host, she was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt. Yu and Yukiko, standing on the front porch of the Amagi Inn, waved her in, “So when are we expecting the goods?”

“Kitagawa’s agent told me his artworks should be arriving at noon for a three p.m. launch,” said Yukiko.

“That’s some quick set up,” said Chie, with a frown.

“He was incredibly thorough; had me send him not only the dimensions of the penthouse, but also photos of it at various times of the day, so that he could establish what needed to be where as quickly as possible. Apparently this particular agent is renowned for how quickly he arranges exhibitions.”

The three sat with that statement for a bit, letting it sink in.

“Hmm,” said Chie, “Well, me and my guys will swing by around three when it’s due to be open; I’ve got them on a tight roster, in, look at paintings for half an hour, out.”

“Great,” said Yu, “Hopefully this will work.”

-

_ 2:30p.m. _

“Wow, Yukiko,” said Yu, voice sounding impressed, “This is...uh...a lot.”

“Yeah, I know,” replied Yukiko.

Neither of them had really been prepared for just  _ how much _ his agent would send over.

Elegant paintings depicted a half-cat half-woman preening her long hair; a short-haired musketeer dipping a fluffy-haired woman in a kimono; a carnivalesque man with a bird mask walking with hands in pockets ignoring the skeleton and fox at his feet; a strange girl covered in green lines like writing and halos, as if she were both angel and machine; a half-metal woman in blues; and the repeating image of a feral cat prowling around the edges of the paintings.

“Amagi-san?” asked one of the helpers, “We’re bringing up his sculptures now.”

“ _ More _ ?” said Yu without thinking. Kitagawa’s agent who was observing the placement of everything, overheard.

“Oh yes!” he gushed, “Kitagawa-kun is  _ very _ prolific. Of course, this is only a small selection of his work, as is suitable for such a small venue, but he’s picked what he thinks will suit the venue best.”

The sculptures were all wooden and lacquered in various ways as to  _ suggest  _ colors, but also to enhance the natural tones of the wood; a moon goddess whose layers of skirts were sculpted to form floral skulls; ‘Hecate’ displaying three different women (one an arch opera singer, one a multi-eyed crone, one a ballerina in a torn dress); the monkey king carved to look more like a pirate than a king; several carvings listed as varying forms of ‘Susano-o’; a fallen angel looking more like a variety of feathered clothing, tipping his top hat; a ball with cuts to let out the opalline cracks out; and...a motorcycle?

“Well, he’s diverse,” said Yu, searching desperately for praise.

“I think they’re rather lovely. Though, um, some are a bit challenging,” said Yukiko, examining a painting of an angel drinking a glass of whiskey.

“Mere flattery, Amagi-san?” said a smooth voice. Yu and Yukiko jumped.

Kitagawa had snuck up behind them. He was wearing a dark blue kimono, and had an incredibly beautiful blonde woman on one arm in a vividly-colored kimono.

“May I introduce my partner for the evening, Ann Takamaki?” said Kitagawa graciously, “She is an old friend.”

Takamaki graced them with a glowing smile, her green eyes vivid, before bowing.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, “And don’t let Yusuke exaggerate, if you don’t like anything let him know; he needs the knock to his ego.”

Kitagawa made a displeased noise at that, while Yukiko fought a giggle.

“Well, you honor my inn with your art, Kitagawa-san,” said Yukiko, “My friend here is Yu Narukami; it was he who suggested this exhibition.”

“Oh?” said Takamaki, unlatching from Kitagawa and clinging onto Yu, “I had no idea places like Inaba had men of  _ such _ culture! You simply  _ must _ tell me how you discovered Yusuke!”

To Yukiko’s alarm, Takamaki dragged Yu away, chattering away, leaving her alone with Yusuke Kitagawa, talented artist and maybe-mass-murderer.

“I must apologize, Amagi-san,” said Kitagawa, “I had intended to make myself known to you earlier in my stay, but there had simply not been time.”

“You’ve...you’ve been here...already…?” said Yukiko, startled. Kitagawa smiled.

“Of course, you are a busy woman; I would not have expected you to notice, especially since Ann and I came in incognito, but I really did wish to come a few days earlier and get a  _ feel _ for this place, this inn, the space that would be hosting my art and, of course...the host itself.”

Alone with him, it occured to Yukiko that Kitagawa was simply  _ not _ what she had expected. She’d expected maybe someone like Yu - warm, self-possessed, quiet - or someone with Kanji’s air of frenetic energy - possibly even somebody with Naoto’s silent air of composed dignity.

Yusuke was thin - thinner even than Yu, as if everything unnecessary had been burned away. His cheekbones stood out harshly from a face that in boyhood had probably been described as ‘pretty’ and was now on a razor’s edge between ‘handsome’ and ‘grotesque’; he reminded Yukiko most of the legend of Yuki-Onna, the snow woman, cold and murderous.

Except for his eyes…

His eyes were dark and captivating, like the ocean on a moonless night, and made Yukiko feel as if she were falling.

“Amagi-san.”

She jerked back to reality; how long had Kitagawa been speaking?

“Apologies, Kitagawa-san; I don’t know what came over me,” she said, sliding her mask as Head of the Amagi Inn into place. The corner of Kitagawa’s mouth twitched.

“I was just saying how very grateful I am for you to have hosted my paintings in your penthouse suite; even if the content of some of them are, as you say, difficult. I hope I do not upset any of the members of your charming town, or even your staff, Amagi-san.”

Yukiko smiled, though she had to look away from those dark eyes of his to do so.

“Kitagawa-san, I appreciate your concern, but we’re not country hicks; we’re made of quite stern stuff. This town survived a serial killer, I would remind you. We are a strong community,” she even managed to sound proud when she said it; god, what was she turning into?

“Indeed?” he replied, sounding amused. When she opened her eyes, he had caught her wrist, and with a jerk, took her out onto the balcony, where nobody could see them. Before she could say something, he placed a quieting finger on her lips, then tilted her head up to look into his eyes, and her voice died in her throat at the sight of those ocean-dark eyes suddenly intense as he spoke.

“Let me ask you something, Yukiko Amagi: if you are so  _ proud _ of your strong community, then why are you so very keen to leave?”

Her breath caught.

“What...what makes you think I want to leave…?” she asked, voice soft. He smiled and her heart turned over.

“ _ Yamato nadeshiko _ ...a hearty plant, wouldn’t you say? It can survive the frost, the heat, full soil, mixed soil, even barren soil...but no plant...no  _ flower _ ...can survive if it does not  _ wish _ to. I have watched you since I arrived, Amagi-san. You stare out the windows and sigh. You put on a mask to greet your new customers, and you look at your leaving customers with envy. The Amagi Inn is a beautiful place...but to you, it is merely a gilded cage, my lovely, ivory bird, is it not?”

She was trembling. Why was she trembling? The mask she’d put on for years - even to the point of fooling herself - it was slipping off. So what? Chie hadn’t saved her. Yu hadn’t saved her. Even she hadn’t saved herself.

_ Naoto thinks he’s a Phantom Thief! _ screamed part of her.  _ She thinks he’s a killer! _

Well, Naoto had been wrong before.

Yusuke bent his head and gently brushed his lips, chastely, against hers, setting her nerves on fire.

“When you come to Tokyo,” he whispered, “I hope you will come visit me, and we will talk more.”

With that, he turned and strode away.

For a moment she stared, before softly saying,

“‘When I come to Tokyo…?’”

-

“So you found out about Yusuke from one of his exhibitions?” chirped Takamaki, still hanging off Yu’s arm.

“Ah, yes,” said Yu, “I have friends in Tokyo and one time I was visiting; his work struck me as very evocative.”

“Ooo, Yusuke will like to hear that!” cooed Takamaki, “He hates when people just use words like ‘cool’ or ‘pretty’. He always wants to know how a piece makes someone  _ feel _ .”

“That seems...helpful,” said Yu, floundering.

“What about this piece?” said Takamaki, gesturing to a piece depicting a silhouette with bloodied hands, “How does it make you feel?”

The onslaught of words was rather dizzying. Yu fought to grasp a thread of emotion other than ‘repulsed’.

“It makes me feel...frightened. As if the painter is worried he is losing his grip.”

“Hm,” said Takamaki, “I always think it feels lonely, as if the painter is struggling to deal with all of his problems on his own. But then, they say what we see in art is what we want to see, right?”

“And what about you, Takamaki-san?” said Yu, trying desperately to take control of the conversation, “How did you come to know Kitagawa?”

“Oh,  _ that _ . It’s bullshit. I was a model for one of his paintings when he was just starting out, and we stayed in touch. He likes me to accompany him to gallery openings because I’m pretty, that’s all.”

“Oh, uh...so you’re not close?” said Yu, feeling more than a bit wrongfooted.

“Nope!” chirped Takamaki, “Why?”

And suddenly Yu became aware that those vivid green eyes that had been glowing with happiness had suddenly become as hard and sharp as gemstones; and he had the nasty suspicion he had been played.

“You want information on Yusuke? Why?” she demanded. Cold, new knowledge dropped as he felt something press against his wrist.

“Uh…”

“You’re clearly not a fan,” she snapped, “Yusuke’s never does a gallery show in Tokyo; he uses exhibitions as an excuse to travel and compose new scenery works; anyone who knows Yusuke’s art should know that, so you’re clearly  _ not _ an art geek. But you want to know how  _ I  _ know him. There are an awful lot of  _ people _ here for the first day of a gallery opening, and a lot of them  _ aren’t moving _ ; how many are police officers?”

It occurred to Yu that he could deal with ditzy twenty-somethings who were maybe mass-murderers; he wasn’t sure he could deal with ditzy twenty-somethings  _ who were really really perceptive _ and maybe mass-murderers.

“Let me make this clear, Narukami-san: Yusuke and I are going home after this. We just came here to see if you were any good, and you disappointed us.”

“Is there a problem?” asked a smooth voice. It was Kitagawa, and judging by the smile on his face, not only had he heard everything, he was completely unsurprised.

In an instant, the ditzy twenty-something Takamaki was back.

“Of course not!” she cooed, “But like, this place is so dull! Can we go somewhere with at least a club?”

“Of course,” replied Kitagawa, “My agent has everything in control here. I didn’t really expect to find much of value out here anyway.”

As they walked away, Yu felt himself sway.

The cold metal pressed against his wrist could, realistically, have been  _ anything _ \- but he was reasonably sure it was a knife.

This was not his day.

-

“This the place?” said Kanji sceptically.

“This is, apparently, the only place Haru Okumura will take coffee,” replied Naoto, regarding the tiny Yongen shop with a mixture of apprehension and dismay.

“Is she here?”

“Comes here every day at ten, talks to the owner for an hour, drinks coffee. Longer if it’s a Saturday,” said Naoto, consulting one of the later attempts at cracking the case; this person seemed to have suspected the entire thing to be infaction fighting by the Okumura company, but on the bright side, they got surveillance on Haru Okumura done, which saved her time.

“Well, I guess we’re having coffee,” sighed Kanji, leading the way into leblanc.

It was tiny, dim, retro, and quiet. Okumura sat in one of the booths drinking slowly from a cup. She was dressed in a variety of soft pinks, her soft fluffy hair slightly damp from a morning shower.

Naoto took the seat opposite her, and Kanji sat next to Naoto. Okumura continued to drink, before finishing with a sigh.

“Sojiro,” she said, “Another coffee for me, and one each for my guests please.”

The bent over figure of the shop owner nodded, and the smell of percolating coffee got stronger.

Okumura turned to Kanji and Naoto with a smile.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Naoto Shirogane,” said Naoto, “This is Kanji Tatsumi.”

“Oh!” cried Okumura, “You aren’t Kanji Tatsumi of Tatsumi Textiles and Designs are you?”

“Uh...yeah…” said Kanji, slightly wrongfooted.

“I  _ love _ your work, it’s so beautiful. Especially your handmade fabrics; I feel like I can see and feel the  _ love _ you put into every single stitch of the fabric. When I was younger, I don’t know if you would remember, but I purchased a yukata from your store? Pink with violet designs?”

Kanji thought for a sec.

“I think I remember the one. That was one of the first yukata I helped Ma stitch.”

“In that case I shall love it even more,” said Okumura delightedly.

Naoto, who had watched this with mild bemusement, felt the sudden desire to bring the conversation to something approaching reality.

“I’m pleased that Kanji’s work delights you Okumura-san, but we’re here…”

“Oh, to discuss the Phantom Thieves, naturally,” said Okumura. The coffees were set down, and she dimpled at the barista.

“Uh…” said Naoto, “...I mean, yes. Your father was one of the last victims. As was Sugimura. Your fiance.”

“Mm-hmm,” sighed Okumura.

“Sugimura was accused of abusing women, but no evidence was given,” said Naoto.

“Is that so?” asked Okumura.

“We think that implicates you,” said Naoto.

There was a long pause, during which Okumura just smiled to herself.

“Don’t you love the smell of coffee?” asked Okumura.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” asked Naoto.

“I know that you said this in public,” said Okumura, startling Naoto, “You have no warrant, which means it’s a suspicion. This is entirely informal, which means anything said can’t be used to supply a warrant, which means what information you have isn’t useful; you’re hoping to learn something new out of me.”

Naoto stared. Okumura’s eyes opened and she smiled.

“Luckily for you, I’m feeling generous. You are, of course, not the first to make the connection between Sugimura and myself; I assume you have not checked out the Phansite? I put up an anonymous request, even listen Sugimura’s name. That is why the Phantom Thieves’ eliminated him. And if you think that the big murders are the only ones they did…” she dimpled. It was an oddly patronising expression, “...then you’re a fool, Shirogane-san, and I know you aren’t a fool.”

Naoto stood, slamming her fist on the table, and the instant she did, she heard a gun cock.

She slowly turned, to see the barista with a hand on the counter.

On top of a loaded  _ pistol _ .

“See this?” he said, holding a piece of paper, “It’s a gun’s license. A  _ legal _ gun’s license. Now, she just explained to you that you’ve got no legal basis for what you’re doing. So, if I were the two of you, I’d back away slowly. Understand?”

Naoto and Kanji exchanged a look, nodded, and edged out of the booth.

Before he fully left, Kanji paused, and turned.

“Okumura-san...I’m in Tokyo for a while organizing a show. See, here’s my card. If you...if you want another yukata, you let me know, okay?”

A genuinely surprised look crossed her face, followed by a delighted smile, as if Kanji had surpassed her expectations. Kanji nodded, and left.

-

Back at the flat, Naoto was a bundle of tight energy until she reached their bedroom, at which point she flung herself onto the covers and screamed into a pillow.

“Well, at least you didn’t throw any mugs,” said Kanji, “Not sure I could have handled that.”

“Dammit!” swore Naoto throwing herself onto her back, “She had us on the ropes.”

“What are these?” asked Kanji, picking up the folder she’d discarded, and then dropping it, “Fuck! Is that Okumura-san...in blood?”

“It appears to be so,” sighed Naoto, “An acquaintance arranged some surveillance for me.”

“So you already knew Dulcinea was the bar we needed,” said Kanji.

“I had a suspicion and acted on it; speaking to Niijima-san confirmed it.” said Naoto, “I did not want to be caught on the left foot with Okumura-san. I did  _ not _ know that the owner of leblanc was a friend of hers or would be...angered if we try to interrogate her.”

There was a moment of silence.

“I’ve handled this poorly,” said Naoto, “I’m going to call Yu, see how quickly we can get everyone here.”

Kanji grinned.

“Shoulda done that from the start, Naoto. You’re good on your own, but you know we all work better as a team.”

She glared at him briefly, before smiling wryly.

“True. I just dislike admitting it. Well, once everyone gets here the  _ real _ work begins.”

Kanji kissed her on the forehead.

“In the meantime, I’ll get dinner started, love. You rest.”

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ Naoto examined the body of the latest victim, Kinshira Morooka, and frowned. _

_ Aside from the obvious - no appearance on TV - there was one clear difference even the incompetent pathologists of this town had picked up on, but seemed to have been soundly ignored by the police as ‘inconsequential’. _

_ Carefully, she pulled on a glove, and ran it along Morooka’s skin and then frowned. _

_ It was clean. _

_ She nodded to the pathologist, who pulled open the shelf containing the body of Saki Konishi. _

_ Delicately, respectfully, Naoto ran a finger along Konishi’s skin. _

_ Dust, and a smell of smoke. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally was going to have Kanji do basically nothing this chapter, but then the idea of Haru squeeing over his fashion popped into my head and it appealed to me so fucking much.  
> Haru Okumura: even if you are on opposite sides, she will still take the time to tell you how much she appreciates the work you do. There’s a reason I love her.


	3. And Had A Great Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Investigation Team gathers in Naoto and Kanji’s department to go over the extent of their knowledge (or, rather, the depth of their ignorance). Yukiko receives an invitation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I took so long to update - I didn't want to update this chapter without chapter four ready to go as well, mainly because this chapter could quite easily be retitled "EXPOSITION" and I wasn't happy posting a chapter of exposition and leaving you with that.

Naoto and Kanji’s apartment had never been the largest; with Kanji’s project taking up half the space, it had become cramped. Now, with the rest of the Investigation Team trying desperately to find space to sit down, it was positively claustrophobic.

“I’ll move some of the stuff,” said Kanji, going to move the long, beautiful kimonos draped over the large, squashy couch that was being shot longing glances by their guests.

“I’ll help!” chirped Rise, “I want to go over some of this with you…”

“ _ Maybe later _ ,” said Yu significantly, raising his eyebrows at Rise, who giggled.

Naoto and Kanji looked at each other. Some people, like Rise, never changed.

When the various completed parts of kimono had been removed, Chie, Yosuke and Rise pounced onto it. Kanji smiled, and joined Naoto and Yu at the table by the corkboard.

“Oh, man, I seriously need this,” groaned Yosuke, “I swear, my back has been one big  _ ache _ since the train.”

“Yukiko?” said Rise, “Do you want my seat? I didn’t have so far to come.”

Yukiko smiled.

“It’s fine, I’m happy to sit at a table.”

“D’you want something to drink Yukiko?” asked Kanji.

“Some miso would be nice,” said Yukiko.

Naoto took a moment to take in her friends, and how they’d changed.

Yu, still tall and elegant, wearing the pressed white shirts and black trousers of a police officer even when not on duty; a pair of reading glasses were high on his nose as he read through the notes on the Phantom Thieves; the glasses gave him a distant, cold look.

Yosuke, hair still shoulder-length and messy, in jeans and t-shirt; there was a seriousness to his eye now, though, in spite of the jokes, and the grins, and a quietness. The years and damage that stretched between had taught Yosuke  _ something _ .

Chie, like Yu, was crisp in white shirts and black trousers, though her sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and her buttons were undone to reveal a gray undershirt. Her short hair looked messy, as if she often ran weary fingers through it, and there were deep shadows under her eyes.

Yukiko and Rise seemed the most unchanged; still beautiful, still girlish, almost as if the events of fifteen years ago had left them untouched; maybe. There was a definition to Rise that had not been there before, muscle that she had developed. And despite the mask of warmth Yukiko had, her eyes always looked sad and distant.

And her and Kanji? Naoto looked at him. How had they changed?

A heartbeat of memory, of thinking, of sadness.

Then Naoto gathered herself.

“So, I’ve asked you here for help regarding the cold case of the Phantom Thieves.”

Yosuke whistled through his teeth.

“Have I mentioned how  _ insane _ you are lately?” he said.

“People keep saying that to me like I don’t know,” replied Naoto irritably, “Anyway. Our current suspects include Haru Okumura, Makoto Niijima, Ann Takamaki and Yusuke Kitagawa.”

“Takamaki?” said Yukiko, surprised, “You mean, the woman who was Kitagawa’s guest?”

“You met her, Yukiko?” said Rise.

“Yes, she struck me as rather...well, I don’t mean to be impolite, but frankly rather ditzy.”

“She wasn’t,” said Yu, “She figured out not only that I was investigating Kitagawa, but also that half the guests there were plains clothes, and managed to threaten me in such a way that I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“What?” said Chie, “How?”

Yu was quiet for a moment.

“She  _ could _ have been pressing a keychain to my wrist,” he said, “She  _ could _ have been pressing a coin. But it  _ felt _ like a knife. And that’s the problem;  _ I don’t know. _ ”

“Takamaki…?” said Rise, “Wait, does she have blonde hair? Green eyes?”

Yu turned, surprised.

“You know her?”

“She was a minor model in the fashion circle for years. Never anything special, but pretty enough,” said Rise, “There was speculation she might try to make it as an idol, but then she vanished.”

“She said she posed for Kitagawa…” said Yu.

“Takamaki, Okumura and Niijima all attended Shujin,” said Naoto, “But Takamaki was in a different year group from Okumura and Niijima. And Kitagawa attended Kosei High; they should have had no connection at all.”

“So we need to find the person that connects them all,” said Chie.

“There is definitely one thing that we can say connects them,” said Naoto, “Something I was entirely foolish to overlook: the Phandom Aficionado Website.”

“...you’re kidding me,” said Yosuke, raising an eyebrow, “Kids were  _ fans _ of those lunatics?”

“More than fans,” said Naoto, “They would anonymously post people they wanted to be erased. Only the most severe - domestic abuse cases, murderers, extortionists - seemed to be answered. What is interesting is that Sugimura was posted, as were Kunikazu Okumura and Ichyruusai Madarame.”

“So that’s a connection for Kitagawa and Okumura,” said Chie, who was writing notes in her police notepad, “What about Niijima and Takamaki?”

“The Phansite only came into existence  _ after _ the death of Kamoshida, the abusive gym teacher,” said Naoto, “Which leads me to believe that Ann Takamaki must be one of the founding members of the Phantom Thieves; that is her link in. In the evidence file left at the scene, one of the files left is Kamoshida’s file on her, which reveals his sexual abuse of her.”

“Okay, so Takamaki’s link to Okumura and Kitagawa is the Phansite,” said Rise, “So I guess what we need to know  _ now _ is, who’s running the Phansite?”

“One Yuuki Mishima,” said Naoto, “ _ Another _ of Kamoshida’s victims. However, the site hasn’t been updated by Mishima himself since the death of Shido.”

“So no one’s been posting?” said Yosuke.

“I didn’t say that,” said Naoto, “People have been posting...but somebody else has been answering. Judging by their responses, I’d say they’re the Phantom Thieves. Unfortunately, they’re using an IP-blocker.”

“Where and  _ how _ do we find Mishima?” asked Yu.

“That…” replied Naoto, “...I  _ don’t _ know, and finding out will take time.”

“So we know that Ann Takamaki is at least the first Phantom Thief,” said Chie.

“No,” said Naoto, “I estimate there were at least three - maybe even four - Phantom Thieves at the start. I personally agree with Akechi’s estimation that their numbers grew with every large-scale murder they did.”

“Why three?” asked Yukiko.

“The murder of Suguru Kamoshida; his throat was slit, his chest laid open, his ribs cracked outward and his heart cut out; he was then strung up by his wrists at his bed, with his lips wired up to form a smile. The amount of effort could have  _ maybe _ been done by one man...if they were Kanji’s size, height, weight class and strength. Which Takamaki was  _ not _ . Nor were any of the other students attending Shujin.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Uh, Yukiko?” said Kanji into the silence, “Are you okay? You look a bit green.”

She smiled, somewhat tightly.

“I’m just going to...go outside for some fresh air.”

“Do you need some company?” said Chie.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” said Yukiko, sounding faintly strangled.

The door slammed. Naoto winced.

“I’ll apologize when she gets back,” she said. “By my estimate, to do all of that, you would need at least three people - maybe four - to accomplish everything.”

“So Takamaki had accomplices even then,” said Yu, “Do you think Niijima was an accomplice?”

Naoto began tapping a pen against her closed lips.

“I’m unsure. I think if we’re going to find accomplices, they will be in the folder that was left at the crime scene.”

Naoto started pinning up photos.

“These are all the students that were named in the folder. Shiho Suzui...Akira Kurusu...Ryuji Sakamoto…”

“Hey, waitasec!” said Kanji.

Everyone turned.

“That’s him. That was...that was the mini-Kanji, the bouncer at Dulcinea.”

Everyone stared for a moment, before looking back at the photo Naoto had pinned.

“Heh,” said Yosuke, “it is a mini-Kanji. Reckon he’s got the same taste in men.”

“I have  _ literally been in a relationship with a woman for ten years _ ,” snapped Kanji, “Will you  _ let it frickin’ rest _ ?”

“Sakamoto working at Dulcinea doesn’t  _ necessarily _ implicate him…” said Naoto slowly.

“But you don’t think that,” said Rise.

“It is suspicious,” admitted Naoto, “I think our next move is tracking down Yuuki Mishima and working our way through all the names in this folder and finding out either where they are or what happened to them. We can safely assume any names that take us to Dulcinea are probably Phantom Thieves.”

“How many Phantom Thieves do you think there are?” asked Yosuke, “Like, are we going against an army here?”

“I don’t think so,” said Naoto, “And I don’t think we’re going against some sort of cult. I think they start with three or four, then gained a single member with each murder up to Masoyoshi Shido, and then stopped building. At the lowest number, six. At the highest number, maybe eight or nine. They would be very insular, deeply suspicious of outsiders, and very wary of letting newcomers into their ranks.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like anyone I know,” said Yosuke dryly.

“What’s  _ that _ meant to mean?” snapped Chie.

“Oh, only that you’ve picked a fight with literally  _ every girlfriend I’ve ever made _ ,” snarled Yosuke.

“They’ve all been brainless floozies!”

“Oh god, not this again,” said Rise, “Where’s Yukiko she can always stop…”

A sudden, dead silence fell on the room.

“Guys,” said Kanji very slowly, “Didn’t Yukiko say she’d be back soon…?”

Chie stood up quickly and ran for the door.

-

_ 10 minutes ago… _

Yukiko stood outside the apartment building, breathing long and slowly.

It wasn’t that the descriptions of gore  _ bothered  _ her. It was that she was having a hard time reconciling the cold, clinical description of what had happened and -

_ Kitagawa - _

and -

_ Takamaki - _

Neither of them seemed like real people. They seemed outside reality, untouched by it, somehow. She had seen the smile Takamaki had given her as they’d left Amagi Inn. It seemed to say ‘this is all out little secret, right?’. Maybe that smile was why Yukiko hadn’t mentioned her discussion with Kitagawa.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

It was a series of five messages.

_ Hello _

_ My name is Ali Baba _

_ Yusuke would like to see you again _

_ If you are amenable, speak ‘open’ aloud. _

_ You will be found. _

When she tried to text back, she was told there was no number.

After a moment, she said, softly, ‘Open’ into the looming shadows.

For a long moment, there was silence, and then a vintage car - Yukiko thought it might be a BMW - pulled up. Yukiko didn’t like cars much, but this car, with lovely smooth curves, glossy even in the darkness, looked beautiful.

A door slammed shut, and the driver walked over.

It was a tall man, with bleached blond hair. The hair should have reminded her of Kanji, but something about how he carried himself, the direct look in his eyes, put her more in mind of Chie.

“Hi,” he said, “I’m Ryuji Sakamoto. You’re Amagi, right?”

She nodded.

“Yusuke wants to meet you. We don’t normally arrange visits like this, just so y’know, but, eh, Futa-chan thought you’d like it.”

Yukiko smiled.

He opened the door, and then said, in a low voice.

“If you come with me, I promise, we will never force you into a gilded cage. You won’t have to go back. We will make your excuses; you will always be free.”

Slowly, she extended a hand into his and let him gently lead her into the car, and drive her away.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ Yukiko woke up into darkness that smelled of smoke and coughed. _

_ Searching around she tried to figure out where she was and what was happening; all she knew was that her kimono was filthy and wet and the dirt around her had a strange quality; some patches felt like mud, others felt...glossy? _

_ She coughed and choked...the air here was dense and dusty and she shivered. _

_ Was she...alone? _


	4. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Yukiko’s disappearance, the Investigation Team makes some perhaps unwise decisions. Yukiko meets some interesting characters.

“She’s not downstairs,” reported Rise, cheeks flushed.

“What?” snapped Chie, and Naoto was suddenly _very glad_ that they’d sent Rise to check instead of Chie, because if they’d sent Chie they would not have learned Yukiko’s fate until tomorrow _after_ Chie made a rash action, “Where could she be?”

“Kitagawa,” said Yu, drawing attention to himself, “Takamaki drew me away and Yukiko was left with Kitagawa. Maybe he wants to talk to her again.”

“You mean maybe he’s _kidnapped_ her!” snarled Chie, storming out of the apartment.

“ _Chie_!” yelled Naoto.

“No, Chie’s right, this is _bullshit_!” snapped Yosuke, being right behind her.

“You’d think they’d learn _some_ form of patience,” sighed Yu.

“We need to follow them,” said Naoto.

“Yeah, otherwise they’re gonna get themselves hurt. I mean, if they _are_ the Phantom Thieves, those two are about to pick a fight with a club full of mass-murderers,” said Kanji.

Rise, Naoto and Yu all winced.

Running out of the apartment, they found that Chie and Yosuke had grabbed Chie’s car (“Typical,” sighed Yu, “The only time they can get their act together is _when we don’t want them to_ ,”) so the rest piled into Yu’s car.

It wasn’t long before the vivid red of ‘Dulcinea’ was blaring ahead of them, but the club seemed very quiet tonight. The only figures apparent were Sakamoto, resting casually against the brick wall, and a tall man with curly dark hair in a button-up shirt and waistcoat, his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world as calm and relaxed as if he was taking a stroll in the park.

“You!” yelled Yosuke as he half-fell out of his car.

“Where’s Yukiko?” demanded Chie.

The man in the waistcoat looked casually at Sakamoto.

“Do _you_ know what they’re talking about Ryuji?” he asked.

“Not a thing, Akira,” he replied.

“Sorry, the club’s closed tonight,” said the dapper man, “Stock take. You know how it is.”

“Like _hell_ it is!” snapped Chie, “Let us the hell in.”

“The club is _closed_ ,” said the dapper figure, as Naoto and the others fell out of the car, “That makes this private property tonight. So, no. You will not be let ‘the hell’ in. Please go away. I happen to know my rights.”

“You’re standing here,” said Yu, “That means you were expecting trouble. Maybe expecting us? You know who mean when we say Yukiko. We want our friend back.”

The dapper man smiled indulgently.

“Not at all. Ryuji and I just stepped out for a private conversation, a private conversation you all barrelled in on rather thoughtlessly.”

Before Naoto could stop him, Yu withdrew his badge and stepped forward.

“I am Police Detective Yu Narukami, looking for Yukiko Amagi. _Let me in_.”

There was a strained moment of silence, and then the dapper man stepped forward, his demeanor suddenly icy.

“Let me inform you, _police detective_ , that your little badge counts for absolutely _nothing_ here. There are innumerable people I have borne witness to who have had their lives _ruined_ by the police, so I am unimpressed by your badge, by your regulation clothes and your regulation car. The police didn’t care when madmen destroyed the lives of the people in this building. So you can take your badge and _get the fuck out_.”

With that, Sakamoto and the dapper man swept back into the building, leaving Yu standing there, incandescent with rage.

-

 _Meanwhile_ …

“This is my studio,” said Kitagawa, “Do you like it?”

Yukiko tried to take in the rather pretty studio, but her knees kept knocking together, and her breath kept coming in quickly, and eventually she had to fall to her hands and knees.

“Amagi-san!” said Kitagawa.

“I’m...I’m sorry, Kitagawa-san. I...it’s just very overwhelming.”

“I completely understand. I felt the same way, many years ago, when I broke free of Madarame. Here, let me help you to lie down. I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Yukiko sat on his bed, uncomfortable, awkward, as Kitagawa fluttered about the studio, getting her a glass of water. He was graceful, yes, but there was also an awkwardness to him, as if he was terribly nervous. The water in the glass trembled; his fingers where she touched him were cold.

“Thank you,” she said, and sipped delicately, both hands gripping the glass, “Do I make you nervous, Kitagawa-kun?”

“Yusuke, please,” he said, “And...I suppose, in a way, yes. I haven’t dealt much with people outside my circle of friends in the last ten years. I am...unaccustomed to it. It is easy to put on a mask of confidence; less so when there are stakes at risk.”

“Stakes?” said Yukiko, “What stakes?”

He smiled; it transformed his face remarkably.

“Amagi-san…”

“Yukiko,” she said, firmly, “If you are Yusuke, then I am Yukiko.”

“Yukiko. If it is not too much of an imposition, I would like to paint you.”

Yukiko blinked. Part of her knew, objectively, that she was rather attractive, but it was one thing to know that, and another thing to have a _master artist_ ask you to model for him…

“But why?” she suddenly asked, “Why paint me? And why rescue me from the Inn?”

Yusuke tapped a finger thoughtfully against his lips.

“Why paint you? Partially, I’ll admit, because you are beautiful. But I also saw you speak with that man - Narukami? - and your smile, to him, has a unique character; sadness, but also humor. The face of one who has been through tragedy. It reminds me of the face of the “Sayuri”; the face of my mother.”

There was a lump in Yukiko’s throat as he spoke of the “Sayuri”; there was more raw emotion on his face than she had thought possible, and there was a strange light in his eyes.

“As to why rescue you, well, there are two answers. Why I, personally, rescued you, is simple: you are beautiful, and you were unhappy there. It is a tragedy, to be unhappy in the place where you are told you belong. I would have much rather you escaped and found some other, happier place to be.”

She smiled at that.

“And the other reason?” she asked. Yusuke’s smile didn’t exactly dim, but a certain seriousness did come to his face.

“Let us not discuss the other reason,” he said, “It will become apparent, in time. In the meantime, would you model for me?”

Yukiko, who had an inkling as to what the other reason was, sighed sadly.

“May I have something to eat first?” she asked.

“Of course! Let me get Haru to fetch you something.”

As Yusuke bustled out, Yukiko took a few, deep breaths, clinging to the glass of water as if it were a lifeline, and examined more closely her surroundings.

While the studio was neat and tidy, there was evidence it hadn’t always been so; paint had dried rather haphazardly on the floor and walls in a manner that suggested being thrown and was entirely at odds with Yusuke’s general demeanor; had he lost his temper over a piece?

As Yukiko looked around, she suddenly came nose-to-nose to a large pair of brown eyes, make larger by the huge glasses perched on top of the nose, framed by incredibly long, messy orange hair.

Yukiko froze, as the orange-haired girl - woman? - slowly drew away from her, regarding her with a sort of minute fascination. She was dressed in shorts and a loose shirt, and her brown eyes were narrowing in suspicion.

“H-h-h-hello…?” stammered Yukiko.

“Valium,” said the orange-haired girl.

“What?” said Yukiko.

“For sleep. You need it. Also mood-stabilizer; you’re thin and pale, clearly showing signs of overwork; from what Inari’s told me, you’re likely overworking to compensate for depression; valium will get your sleep patterns regulated, and also stabilize your mood, at least until you can eat enough.” She snapped out a stethoscope from a tool belt she wore, and quickly took Yukiko’s heart rate, “Not good. You’re borderline anaemic. So’s Inari. Likely a side-effect of the overwork and lack of sleep. Haven’t been eating right, correct?”

“Uh, yes?” said Yukiko, startled.

“Will have Haru make you iron-heavy meals. You’re to eat. Inari doesn’t, because he gets distracted. And also because of Ryuji, but that’s a different matter.”

“Eh?” said Yukiko, “Who are you?”

The huge brown eyes were focussed on her face again.

“You’ll need clothes. I’ll tell Akira.”

Then, with a couple quick skips, she was out the door, nearly bumping into Yusuke as she did. Yusuke sighed.

“Apologies. That was Futaba. She is...not comfortable around new people, but she also is the closest we have to a doctor. Akira had some...concerns that you might not be well, and wanted Futaba to look at you.”

“She’s so _tiny_ ,” said Yukiko, a bit dazed, “And who’s Inari?”

Yusuke rolled his eyes, and Yukiko almost giggled in surprise; it was a surprisingly human gesture.

“That would be me. Now. Would you like some food? I believe Haru and Akira are preparing a curry.”

Yukiko’s stomach lurched.

“That sounds lovely,” she said.

“Then come,” he said warmly, “And I’ll introduce you to the rest.”

-

Sakamoto was there, already eating, and the air became noticeably icier the instant he and Yusuke were present together. Behind the bar counter, a fluffy-haired woman in all pinks and a curly-haired man in a button-up shirt instantly made expressions of exasperation.

“If neither of you can be civil in front of our guest,” said the curly-haired man, “Go be nasty somewhere else.”

Sakamoto looked almost offended at that statement, before grabbing his plate and storming off. Yusuke merely huffed.

“That goes for you, too, Yusuke,” said the curly-haired man, “I would like some time alone with our guest.”

“I believe she is _my_ guest, Akira,” said Yusuke with a frown.

“Yes,” said Akira, “But I also believe that she should be informed as to some of the _realities_ of her stay here _without_ being subjected to your and Ryuji’s drama.”

Yusuke pouted, rather beautifully, and then grabbed his own plate and sulked off.

“Did I do something wrong?” asked Yukiko.

“Not at all,” said the fluffy-haired woman, “My name is Haru Okumura. You’ve already met Ryuji, and this is Akira Kurusu. Please, eat.”

A plate of delicious-smelling curry was set in front of Yukiko, whose stomach growled.

“P-p-please excuse me,” she stammered.

“Not at all,” said Kurusu, “Futaba informed you show signs of overwork. Eat as much as you like, and then sleep.”

Yukiko nodded, and began eating. As she did, the tiny, orange-haired woman - Futaba? - stuck her head around the door, and nodded with satisfaction to see her eating.

“Tell Inari she’s not to model until she’s rested,” said Futaba, “I know how hot those lights of his are; I want her rested.”

“We’ll look after her, Futa-chan,” said Okumura with a smile, “Now, do you want some curry?”

Futaba’s face lit up with a smile, transforming her from a strange, wary figure to a strange, elfin beauty. However, once her plate was full, she vanished back through the doorway she’d come. This was, apparently, a common enough sight that neither Okumura nor Kurusu commented on it.

“She’ll be busy,” said Kurusu, “You’ll probably need to fetch those plates yourself.”

“Mmm,” said Okumura.

Paying attention, Yukiko realized they were plating up for more people than just herself.

“Who else are we expecting?” she asked.

“Ann and Makoto,” said Okumura, texting on her phone. In a moment, the blonde woman from the exhibition appeared, accompanied by a beautiful, but hard-faced brunette. Both were dressed as if they had been at the gym, and looked surprised to see Yukiko.

“Amagi-san,” said Takamaki, “This is a pleasant surprise,” she shot a look at Kurusu, “One I would have _liked_ to have been warned of…”

“Ryuji and Futaba organized it for Yusuke,” said Kurusu casually.

“I could have got her here faster,” said the brunette. She looked familiar, but Yukiko couldn’t put her finger on where.

“Yes, Makoto, but I don’t think Amagi-san is _quite_ ready for a ride on your motorcycle.” Judging by the dryness of Kurusu’s voice, he _had_ been on her motorcycle, and had not enjoyed the experience.

“Excuse me,” said Yukiko, “Are you Makoto Niijima?”

The hard-faced woman looked surprised, then smiled. It softened her face tremendously.

“Yes.”

“I see,” said Yukiko.

“Planning to go back to your friends and tell them about us?” she asked.

“...I don’t know,” said Yukiko, “A week ago I might have said yes. But...Sakamoto...he said you won’t make me go back to the inn and...they’ll expect me to go back. They...none of them tried to...tried to…” She could feel huge, giant sobs welling up in her chest, choking her words, drowning her breath, so that she barely felt Takamaki’s arm come up around her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Amagi-san,” said Takamaki, “We understand. You don’t have to do anything here you don’t want to.”

“Although,” said Kurusu, “There is one thing we ask of you.”

Yukiko looked up.

“We are all friends here. So please: Call us by our first names.”

His eyes were deep and dark and held something terrible in their depths, but his smile was kind.

It was then Yukiko knew she was doomed.

“If you insist, Akira-kun,” she said softly, and his smile widened.

“There is one more thing we will one day require of you, but we will not ask it tonight; tonight we ask only that you rest.”

Part of Yukiko felt his words should have prompted fear, but instead they prompted only comfort, and a lingering sense of wonder, as she slowly ate, then was guided to a spare bedroom, and slept.

_-_

_Fifteen years ago..._

_Yukiko was sure she was going mad, trapped in the dark, lifeless place. Soon they would find her (nobody would find her) and she would be stark raving..._

_"Hello?"_

_Somebody was shining a light from above, and then throwing down a rope, and she was sobbing, and gripping the rope so tightly her palms burned as Yu, Yosuke and Chie dragged her to the surface._


	5. .intermission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Phantom Thieves discuss their next move.

“She’s asleep,” announced Futaba walking out of her room with her dirty plate.

“Yes, I know, I put her to bed myself,” said Yusuke, rather irritatedly.

“Eyes are in REM state, breathing is even; she’s not waking up anytime soon,” added Futaba, with a glare.

“Children, enough,” said Haru.

The whole group was gathered at the bar.

“Have we anything from Yukiko we didn’t know?” asked Makoto. Akira gave her a level glare.

“We’ve  _ discussed this _ , Makoto; that is  _ not _ why we brought her.”

“I  _ know _ ; I just think it’s worth discussing with her if she’s willing to bring it up.”

Akira and Makoto looked at each other a beat more, before Akira sniffed, clearly still unimpressed.

“Futaba, what do we know about Naoto’s investigations?”

“The bugs Ryuji planted in their apartment the day they interrogated Haru are still working,” she chirped, “Though knowing Shirogane-san’s experience, I wouldn’t be surprised if she eventually figures out we’ve got her bugged and starts holding meetings somewhere else. Beyond that, they’ve figured out who Mishima is.”

“Damn,” hissed Akira through his teeth, “That’s faster than we expected.”

“Damn is right,” said Ryuji, “Do we even know where Mishima is at?”

“I’m still in contact with him,” admitted Akira, “But this is a tricky situation; if he leaves the country suddenly, especially right after our confrontation, that’s all but openly admitting our ties to him.”

“Won’t work,” said Ann, “After the global broadcast of Shido, the Japanese government worked with the UN to set up a global extradition policy regarding suspects involved in the Phantom Thieves.”

“Oh yeah,” growled Ryuji, “I remember that; the No Home For Thieves Policy.”

“You have to admit, it was flattering,” commented Yusuke.

For a moment, Yusuke and Ryuji grinned at each other, then remembered they were fighting and looked away.

“So...:” said Makoto in a slow voice, “What we want is a way to get Mishima out of the picture that doesn’t draw attention to him.”

“In a sense,” said Akira, “Do you have a plan?”

Makoto’s eyes were slightly unfocused as she thought, and she was winding a lock of her hair through her fingers.

“If we rephrased this plan,” she said, “Our goal is to make it so that Shirogane-san cannot get  _ access _ to Mishima.”

Everybody looked at Makoto. With that expression on her face, this was bound to be good.

In a single sentence, she outlined her plan.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Akira laughed.

-

“...so that’s what we want you to do,” said Akira to Mishima over lunch.

Yuuki Mishima still looked as fresh-faced as ever; it was hard to believe he’d led the charge of fans for a group of murderers. These days he worked as a writer for a kid’s television show.

Sometimes, mused Akira briefly, truth is stranger than fiction.

“I don’t know Akira,” said Mishima, biting his lip, “It’s a bad time; we’re still in the middle of the writing process for next season.”

“I know you are, Mishima, and believe me, I wouldn’t ask, but if you don’t, you’ll be investigated in regards to us.”

“You know I’d never betray you guys!” said Mishima fiercely.

“ _ Yes _ , Mishima. But that doesn’t mean I want  _ your _ career and the things  _ you’ve _ worked for to go down the drain.”

Mishima’s mouth twisted.

“...all right,” he said finally, with a heavy sigh, “What do you need me to do?”

Akira grinned.

“First step: call the cops…”


	6. Beaten, Bruised, Battered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tempers flare, secrets are revealed, and the investigation hits a dead end.

It was of much surprise to Kanji, as a passive observer, that Yosuke Hanamura had learned, in the intervening years, to throw a punch.

He just wished he wasn’t using it on Yu.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” snarled Yu, holding up a hand to his now-bleeding nose.

“Sempai!” called Rise, running over to him and mopping up his face.

“Oh, you just  _ had _ to come in here with your big police fucking  _ swagger _ !” sneered Yosuke, “They’re fucking  _ criminals _ !”

“They’re  _ suspected _ criminals,” said Kanji sternly, stepping between the two, “And we were  _ all _ pretty messed up from Yukiko leaving.”

“Yukiko...left.” said a soft voice.

It was Chie, who was staring, with something between horror and betrayal at Dulcinea, “She…just... _ left _ .”

Yosuke shook his hand out, and Yu wiped his lip, looking for all the world like two boys who wanted to make up but weren’t sure how. Yosuke eventually shrugged, uncomfortable, and went to go comfort Chie, while Rise continued to moan over Yu’s nose.

“Well, that’s  _ something _ , right Naoto? ...Naoto?”

Kanji facepalmed.

“What’s up?” asked Yu, through a mouthful of not-so-helpful Rise-tissue.

“Naoto’s upgraded from talking to walls to talking to dumpsters.”

Everyone stared, with some degree of confusion.

“You know Naoto,” said Yosuke finally, “When I said you were insane I didn’t mean, like,  _ literally _ .”

Naoto finally seemed to realize she was being stared at and sighed.

“I suppose I should tell them…” she said, before pushing up the lid of the dumpster to reveal a bedraggled figure.

“Who’s  _ that _ ?” said Chie.

“Goro Akechi,” said Naoto, “Or what’s left of him, anyway.”

Goro winced.

“Let’s... _ not _ use my name so close to the people who want to kill me, please?” he said.

“Ah, right. Just call him some homeless guy.”

“Here I thought you were all for social reform,” said Goro wryly.

“Don’t push your luck.  _ He _ is the one who persuaded me to take this case.”

Several pairs of eyes stared.

“You’re  _ kidding _ ,” said Yosuke, “He’s living in a  _ dumpster _ .”

“If you hadn’t told me, I wonder how I could possibly have noticed,” retorted Goro, “I’ve been keeping a surveillance going on the Phantom Thieves going since I could track them down.”

Instantly, the others were on edge.

“You’re certain, then?” said Naoto.

“Positive,” said Goro, “Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing concrete to offer. And you’ve made a critical error coming here.”

That last was directed at Yu.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you think them fools?” said Goro sharply, “They know who you are now. They know at least two - maybe even three of you - are cops. They’ll know your resources. They’ll already be planning their next move. You need to move fast. Find evidence. Get warrants. And the next time it’s open, go in.”

“You want us to go  _ in there _ ?” said Yosuke.

“Didn’t you solve the Nametame case?” asked Goro mildly, “I’d think entering a club to get information would be mild compared to this.”

The whole group looked uncertain and nervous.

“I’ve told you,” said Naoto softly, “We don’t talk about that case.”

“As you say, Shirogane-san,” said Goro, with a tone that indicated he had, maybe, gone too far, “Regardless, you need to get moving fast. Whatever your next move is, make it, and quickly.”

“What about our friend?”

“Amagi? Yes, I saw her.”

Chie was instantly at the dumpster, her fists clenched in Goro’s shirt.

“ _ And you didn’t think to stop her _ ?!” she snarled.

“What did you want me to do, throw myself in front of the car?” snapped Goro, “Maybe you should be asking yourself what  _ you’ve _ done lately that’s forced her to throw herself at the mercy of  _ criminals _ !”

Chie punched him in the face at that.

“Don’t you  _ dare _ ,” she snarled, winding her arm back.

“That’s  _ enough _ ,” said Kanji, grabbing her wrist, “He’s given us enough, Chie. Calm down. We’ll get her back.”

Chie made an angry sound and turned away.

“We need to head back,” said Naoto, “We’re too worked up for now. I take your point about speed, but no work can be done like this. In the morning, I will start searching for Mishima. Yosuke, do you and Chie have a place to stay tonight?”

Yosuke nodded.

“I’ll make sure she sleeps, Naoto, don’t worry.”

“Rise?”

“I have an apartment in the city, Naoto. Are you guys gonna be okay?”

Naoto ran a hand through her hair.

“Yes, we’ll be fine. Yu can stay with us, still. We’ll get you some ice.”

-

_ The next morning… _

“What?  _ No _ . Dammit!”

Kanji and Yu looked up from their breakfasts to see Naoto storming out of the study, looking very like she would like to throw her mobile.

“Is...everything okay, Naoto?” asked Kanji.

Naoto took several, deep, steadying breaths.

“Apparently, a new hacker group has started up. Our cybersecurity team is looking into it. They’ve been operating for months, under the group name The Edimmu; they’ve been digging up dirt on politicians and major city figures.” Naoto’s mouth was sealed, “Middle of the night, Mishima was put in protective custody after submitting information regarding The Edimmu.”

“ _ What _ ?” said Kanji and Yu.

“Can you access him?” said Kanji.

“Not easily,” said Naoto, “Our investigations don’t overlap; they won’t want too many visitors and…” she winced, “My visit to Niijima has been noted and I’ve been informed I’m not to skip bureaucracy again. It will take time to get to Mishima.”

“It...could just be coincidence…” said Kanji after a pause.

“Maybe Yukiko mentioned it?” suggested Yu, “She was in the room while we discussed it.”

“Not impossible,” said Naoto, “But I’d rather be safe than sorry. Assuming Yukiko has said nothing of our plans to them, the only way they could know that was our next move is if they are monitoring the Phansite.”

There was a long pause.

Kanji suddenly wrote something on a napkin. When Naoto and Yu read it, they saw:

_ Are they bugging us? _

Naoto help up her phone to show the reply:

_ NOT IMPSSBLE. CHNG LCTN Y/N? _

The boys both nodded, though with an exasperated glance, for Naoto’s typing style, and began texting the others.

-

_ At a small diner… _

“This is nice!” said Rise cheerfully, “Like being back in Inaba.”

“I guess?” said Naoto, sipping her coffee, “Anyway, it will take time to see Mishima. I’m not sure we  _ have _ time.”

“What makes you say that?” said Kanji.

“There must be a  _ reason _ they reached out to Yukiko. And a reason that we were directed to the Phansite…”

“You mean, besides drawing suspicion away from Okumura?” said Yu.

“Well, yes,” frowned Naoto. “Furthermore, if we assume they are monitoring our behavior - why? They could just kill us. Or concoct a scandal as they have done with previous investigators. They know who we are now;  _ why _ are they letting us investigate them?”

“Maybe it’s just a game to them?” suggested Rise. Besides her, Chie was on her phone.

“Chie?”

“Yukiko’s still not answering,” she said, mouth tight.

“Chie, I need you  _ here _ ,” said Naoto. Chie glared at Naoto, who responded with a kind, if somewhat pitying, look, that earned a noise of frustration and Chie putting her phone away.

“Maybe they have a plan that needs us?” said Yosuke.

“I think Goro might be right,” said Naoto, “We may need to just go to Dulcinea and  _ talk  _ to them, casually.”

“Why?” said Rise, blowing bubbles in her drink.

“Two reasons. Firstly, we want to confirm Yukiko’s safety. She’s not answering her phone, so the only way to do that is in person at Dulcinea. Likely, they won’t let us see her, but we can still  _ talk _ to our suspects and ask them about Yukiko.”

“I like that plan,” said Chie, brightening.

“Secondly, we need to know who we’re dealing and what sort of person they are.”

Naoto still looked troubled.

“What’s wrong?” said Yu.

“I’m still unsure about how much time we’re taking on this,” said Naoto, “If we had a warrant…”

“Why not kill two birds with one stone?” said Rise, “You go apply for a warrant and we go talk to them at Dulcinea.”

Naoto nibbled at her nail.

“Are you  _ sure _ you will all be fine?”

“Yes  _ mother _ ,” said Yosuke, “No flipping tables, no hitting on strange men and  _ no _ pulling out of police badges.”

That prompted a wry laugh from Yu; it was clear even he felt he had been foolish the night previous.

“Very well,” said Naoto, “I will head to the police office presently. Dulcinea opens in three hours; If I’m successful, it should take me about that long. If not…” Naoto made a face, “Perhaps don’t expect me until early tomorrow; my boss may want to be... _ thorough _ about my indiscretions.”

“Okay, so if you’re coming, you should be arriving shortly after us, if not, you’re never showing up, cool,” said Yosuke, relaxed.

Naoto looked at all of them and tried to relax.

_ If we have a chance _ , she thought,  _ it’s with them. _

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ Her body was so tiny when they brought it out of the coal mines. So tiny and so filthy. _

_ Strange that the thing Naoto remembered most was how dreadfully filthy her dress was. Never that way before. Brightly vivid and spotless. Even her hair was gray with coal dust. _

_ When they handed her to her father, he fell to his knees, to the ground, weeping, his tears tracking clean spots on her face. _

_ Nanako, little Nanako, and they hadn’t been able to save her. _


	7. Upside Down And Spun Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Investigation Team sans Naoto heads to Dulcinea: Yosuke discusses loneliness; Kanji talks love; Chie is asked to consider devotion; Rise talks choice; and Yu asks questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the edits - I misremembered an important bit of P4 trivia regarding the Fifteen Years Ago section at the end, hence edits to correct it.

Yosuke winced, looking at Yu and Chie; they were in...basically their normal gear. Which meant they  _ still _ screamed ‘off-duty police officer’.

Kanji, on the other hand, was wearing a blazer over his usual attire and looking, despite his bleached hair and many piercings...surprisingly presentable.

“Dude,” said Yosuke, “You clean up good.”

“I run fashion shows, bro,” said Kanji, “I  _ better _ clean up good.”

Yosuke laughed. In his ragged jeans and t-shirt, he by  _ far _ looked the more juvenile of the two, and knew it.

Rise was in a light halter top and pants so tight it looked as if she’d been sewn into them; early thirties she may be, but Rise still managed to make Yosuke sweat on occasion.

And Naoto, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey Kanji, you managed to get Naoto into a dress yet?” he quipped.

“Yes,” he said, “Several.”

“Are...are you blushing?” he asked.

“..................................................no.”

“Liar.”

Yu rolled his eyes.

“I swear,” said Rise, “Separately, you two can be the most mature, grown up, wonderful men I know, but put you two in a room together and you become twelve year olds.”

“Hey!” objected Kanji, “It’s  _ this _ asshole!”

“What about my asshole?” said Yosuke.

“Why you…!”

Everyone laughed at that; by this stage, Kanji and Yosuke had become practically avant-garde theatre, and they knew it and to a certain, played it up. The only one not laughing was Chie, who was seeming more down and, to Yosuke’s distress, more  _ angry _ the longer time went on.

“Well,” said Yu, “Now that we’re a bit relaxed, let’s continue, shall we?”

“Sure thing, sempai,” said Kanji, “Lead the way.”

-

The inside of Dulcinea was surprisingly nice for a place run by suspected mass-murderers, thought Yosuke. Wooden floors were probably easy to clean and the red-brick walls had been left unpainted, making a bar with few windows seem brighter. All of the furnishings were wooden and varnished to mirror gloss.

Behind the bar stood a woman Yosuke recognized from photos as Haru Okumura; fluffy-haired in glowing pinks. She was cute as a button, bar the unsettling touch of vivid red lipstick, though Yosuke could not say quite what it was about the lipstick that made it so disturbing.

So he sat at the bar and gave her his patented smouldering grin.

“Well, hello,” she greeted flirtatiously. It was a weekday, so comparatively empty and quiet, “What can I get you?”

“A kiss?” he teased.

“Not on offer unfortunately,” she teased right back, “Just alcohol.”

“Oh, you wound me!” he said, “I’ll have a Kirin, then.”

“Bottle or pint?”

“Bottle.” Part of him - the darkly pragmatic part - thought an empty bottle might come in handy if he needed to fight.

There was a moment of silence between them, and then she asked:

“You’re one of Shirogane-san’s investigator friends aren’t you? From Inaba?”

Yosuke wondered, briefly, how she figured it, but decided there was minimal point pretending he wasn’t.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Yosuke Hanamura, of Inaba. How’s Yukiko?”

“She’s fine. Well, no, she isn’t, she’s terribly malnourished and awfully overworked and desperately needs sleep, but she  _ will _ be fine.”

Yosuke felt a horrible stab of ice in his heart. How had he not noticed? Or had it been that he  _ had _ noticed he just...hadn’t done anything?

_ You know why you didn’t notice _ , said a nasty voice in his head.

“I’m...sorry.” He said after a while.

Okumura tilted her head to one side.

“What for?”

“For not noticing. You’ll...you’ll tell her that for me, won’t you? That’s I’m sorry?”

The flirtatious mask dropped from Okumura’s face, and a softness came over it.

“Of course I will,” she said.

“No that’s wrong,” he said, “I  _ did _ notice. I knew  _ something _ was wrong. I just...couldn’t bring myself to say anything.”

Okumura leaned forward, her hair almost brushing Yosuke’s.

“What was wrong, Hanamura-san? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I...was scared of losing my friends. I don’t have very many. And I’m...not very good at making them. I knew what Yukiko wanted. No, that’s not right…I knew what Yukiko  _ needed _ . But I also knew if I did that then Chie would hate me. Yu might hate me too. I...was too comfortable to risk being lonely for her. So tell her I’m sorry.”

There was a pause.

“If you’re expecting me to be angry at you, Hanamura-san, it’s not going to happen. I know what it’s like to be lonely. And I know how frightening the thought of being alone is,” Okumura pushed Yosuke’s hair off his head, “But now you know. You know what your weakness is. So now...the next time you’re afraid to do something to help someone...you won’t falter, will you?”

Yosuke looked at Okumura, and felt an odd kind of kinship with her. It was...strange.

“No…” he said softly, “No, I...no, I won’t. Thank you, Okumura-san.”

She smiled, and it was the smile of a beautiful young girl.

“Call me Haru.”

“Only if you call me Yosuke.”

-

Kanji had very little intention of actually following the letter of the law. Yeah, yeah, break-ins were illegal, but laws had to be bent every now and then. So what?

So the instant  _ he _ headed into Dulcinea, he spotted the door marked ‘Staff Only’ and headed for it, seeing it lead to a mezzanine level.

Unfortunately, it also lead him straight to Yusuke Kitagawa.

“You are not staff,” said Kitagawa icily.

“Nope,” replied Kanji.

There was a moment of silence.

“Uh, hi. Kanji Tatsumi,” said Kanji, holding a hand out. Kitagawa seemed, oddly, to soften.

“Of Tatsumi Fabrics?”

“Uhhh...yeah?”

“Hmm. Haru has taken me to see your works on occasion. Your designs evoke a sensibility I would not expect in someone...well, who looks like a ruffian.”

Kanji chuckled.

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“Well,” said Kitagawa, “I have time.”

Kanji wasn’t sure why, but he found himself leaning against the wall next to Kitagawa, and the two started sharing stories; Kanji told of the death of his father, him helping his mother, his conflict with his masculinity; Kitagawa told of his adoption by Madarame after his mother’s death, his abuse at Madarame’s hands, and his struggle to capture true beauty. By the end, the two were referring to each other familiarly.

“So, if I understand, Kanji,” said Yusuke, “Your conflict, at it’s heart, comes from your belief that it is feminine to do the things you do, and therefore against the wishes of your father?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“But you already accomplish the wishes of your father by caring for your mother, correct?” said Yusuke, “So what is wrong with pursuing your own desires?”

“Hmm,” said Kanji, “Good point. What about you?”

Yusuke started.

“What  _ about _ me?”

“Oh, don’t start. I hear the little hitch in your breath every time you talk about whatshisface; Sakamoto. He’s to you what Naoto is to me, right?”

Yusuke turned his face away.

“Well he  _ is _ , ain’t he?”

“...He could be, but I won’t allow it,” said Yusuke.

“Why not?” asked Kanji.

Yusuke sighed irritably, running a hand through his hair.

“Kanji, you’ve come here for a  _ reason _ : to investigate us. Consider that.”

“So?” said Kanji, “My partner refuses to marry me because of her job. You think that doesn’t hurt me? I’d still rather she was with me  _ at all _ than just plain pushing me away. I’d rather I got to spend what time I had with her than never got time with her  _ at all _ . I’d rather she at least  _ said _ she loved me than never said anything.”

Yusuke tensed, then relaxed.

“You may have a point. And I never thought I would be friendly with the people investigating me and my friends on suspicion of being Phantom Thieves.”

Kanji grinned.

-

Chie, like Kanji, despite her profession, had a certain disregard for the law, especially where Yukiko was concerned, so her immediate focus was heading to the back.

Unfortunately, there was a mini-Kanji in her way.

She glared at Ryuji Sakamoto.

“Is Yukiko back there? Get out of my way, I want to see her.”

“And what if  _ she _ doesn’t want to see  _ you _ ?” asked Sakamoto, inspecting his nails boredly, as if entirely unconcerned with Chie.

“What’s  _ that _ supposed to mean? It’s Yukiko, of course she wants to see me.”

“Wow, you  _ are _ self-obsessed,” said Sakamoto.

“No,  _ you’re _ just a freak who doesn’t  _ understand _ that Yukiko is my  _ friend _ .”

“And what does that mean?”

In two short steps, Sakamoto had shoved Chie up against a wall, and through sheer force of personality had her pinned. One arm was up by her head; she was totally free to move, but the anger and intensity of his gaze kept her there.

Unfortunately, Chie was angry.

“What do you mean? We’ve been friends since we were kids!”

“You know what, that’s  _ weird _ . I’d’ve expected a childhood friend to notice she was working herself to  _ death _ . Do you really care about her?”

“Of course I do!”

“Really? Because I’ve seen what real devotion, real care looks like, and to me, you don’t have it. You don’t even come fucking close.”

Chie felt a blaze of anger in her and raised her hand.

“Ah-ah-ah. You can hit me if you like, but I hit back and I hit  _ hard _ .”

There was a moment of tense silence, before Chie let out a half-yell of anger, and turned on her heel.

“Yeah,” said Sakamoto, watching her leave, “That’s what I fucking thought.”

-

Rise settled at the bar, keeping an eye on everyone around her; Yosuke was chatting with the fluffy-haired bartender, Kanji had disappeared somewhere, and Chie was storming back from wherever she’d come, looking somewhere between tears and wrathfulness.

“Oh dear,” said Rise, “That doesn’t look good,” and finished her cocktail.

“Can I get you another?” said a cheerful voice.

Rise turned to meet a pair of vivid green eyes: Ann Takamaki.

“Uh, yeah. I was having a strawberry daiquiri,” she said.

“Coming right up,” chirping Takamaki.

Takamaki, to her surprise, seemed to have dressed to emphasize her foreign appearance, with her blonde hair gathered in a low bun and wearing a tiny, Western-cut black dress, like something out of an old American film. She was even wearing pearls.

“Something the matter?” asked Takamaki, as she finished making the drink and pushed it over the Rise.

“No, I just would have thought, growing up here, you might, I dunno, downplay the whole foreign ditz thing,” said Rise.

“Why would I do that?” said Takamaki, “My ancestry is part of who I am. Besides, I dress to please myself, not anyone else.”

Rise felt oddly pricked by that comment, though she was unable to quite say why.

“So it doesn’t bother if you when men stare at your legs or tits?” she challenged.

Takamaki shrugged.

“I work at a  _ bar _ . It’s where people give into excess. I’d be lying if I said sometimes it didn’t bother me, but all that matters to me is being honest and true to who I am.”

Rise flinched again.

“And who is that?” snapped Rise. Takamaki blinked, seemingly surprised by the snap.

“Myself. I know who I am. I don’t need to  _ justify _ it. Why?” she tilted her head to one side, “Do you?”

Rise tried very hard not to be angry, but eventually gave up, and knocked her drink over to the floor.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, “It looks like I’ll need another daiquiri. And someone to clean up the glass.”

Takamaki barely flinched, she just sighed a little and calmly cleaned up the spill before mixing another drink.

-

“What are you doing here?”

Yu jumped.

It was the dapper man - Akira Kurusu? - who had icily told him police were not welcome.

“At the moment,” said Yu, “I’m watching...is it Takamaki?...make Rise a third strawberry daiquiri.”

“Yes,” agreed Kurusu, “Ann does seem to have got under your friend’s skin a little.”

There was a pause as the two watched, and then winced as Rise threw the third daiquiri in Takamaki’s face before storming away.

“Okay, Takamaki got under Rise’s skin a lot,” said Yu, “Uh. Sorry.”

Kurusu sighed.

“It’s nothing she doesn’t normally have to put up with. Shall I send Kujikawa-san the drycleaning bill?”

Yu glanced sideways at Kurusu, who was sipping a generous amount of whiskey. It was hard to tell if he was joking or not.

“Where is Yukiko?”

“Safe,” replied Kurusu, “I should note my statement from earlier stands, albeit with the caveat that you are, of course, welcome here as long as you have money.”

Again, Yu had a hard time telling if Kurusu was joking.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll have an Asahi,” said Yu, half-jokingly, and was then surprised when Akira caught the eye of the fluffy-haired woman who had been flirting with Yosuke and she, as if by magic, wandered over with a bottle of Asahi.

The two looked at each other for a long moment.

“I have a feeling if I asked how you did that, you wouldn’t tell me,” said Yu.

“You’re correct,” said Kurusu.

“And if I ask about the Phantom Thieves…?”

“You will be ignored.” His voice was icy again.

“Or Goro Akechi?”

Briefly, an odd look passed over Kurusu’s face. If Yu hadn’t known better, he might have called it surprise. It was gone so quickly, however, that Yu was almost prepared to say he imagined it.

“Finish your beer and then get out,” said Kurusu, “You, and all of your friends. As far as I am concerned, your business here is concluded.”

“Just  _ promise me _ Yukiko will be safe,” said Yu as Kurusu started to go.

Once again, the air seemed to become noticeably chillier.

“You’re so very pathetic, you know that, right?” said Kurusu, “Your friends are off trying to do work, and all you can do is watch. You’re so very frightened we’re going to  _ steal _ someone from you. Here’s a fact: we didn’t  _ steal _ her. We offered her a choice, and she came of her own free will, and she is now safer than she has ever been.  _ No thanks to you _ .”

With that, Kurusu turned on his heel and left.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ It was raining the day Yu and Yosuke found the sinkhole. _

_ Tumbling through the mud, into darkness, a sinkhole filled with oddities and strangeness, they managed to scramble their way into the main shaft of the coal mine, uncovering the things they’d stuffed in their pocket: a torn off piece of fabric identifiable as a scarf, a ripped-up flier for a concert by Misuzu Hiiragi, and a piece of Saki Konishi’s stockings. _


	8. The Ties That Bind?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Investigation Team discusses their experiences at Dulcinea; Naoto is surprised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today; next couple of chapters are on the short side, since they're less plot chapter and more character development chapter. Should be getting to more plot-heavy stuff around chapter 11.

It was the next day. By common consensus, it had been agreed that they would be meeting at Rise’s apartment; Naoto had still not reappeared. Kanji appeared singularly unfussed, but he seemed alone in this.

Rise’s apartment was eclectic; lots of chrome and glass, but also large, brightly-colored comfy cushions and a fridge full of takeout (the culinary arts still eluded her). As they entered, Rise grabbed Yu and whispered if she could have a private word.

“Sure,” he said.

The two slipped into Rise’s guest room; Rise seemed distressed, almost on the verge of tears.

“It’s Takamaki,” she said suddenly.

“You threw a daiquiri in her face,” prompted Yu. Rise winced.

“I know, I feel terrible. It’s just...she was so  _ genuine _ . Everything she said made me feel so fake and plastic.”

“Why would her being genuine make you feel fake and plastic?” asked Yu.

“I dunno,” said Rise, “I guess it’s just, I still feel like I’ve never quite gotten comfortable with the whole ‘who am I really’ thing. Am I Risette, or am I Rise? You know I hated the idol life. And it’s just...seeing someone who might have been me, who maybe had it worse than me, but who had no problem knowing who she was or being true to who she was…it felt like a slap in the face.”

“You know she wasn’t doing that deliberately, right?” said Yu.

“Well, what about you?” said Rise, “You were really quiet after we went to Dulcinea.”

“I dunno,” shrugged Yu, “Kurusu-san…”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. Abruptly, Yu grabbed Rise into a sudden, intense hug.

“Sempai?” said Rise, confused.

“Promise me you’re not going anywhere,” he said, clinging onto her, “Promise me.”

That was the moment Rise got a little frightened. Because Yu was  _ never _ like this. Not even after Nanako..

“I promise,” she said, burying the past, and all the ugly memories with it, behind her.

-

“Those two are taking a while,” said Yosuke.

“Mmm,” replied Chie, a bit distant. Kanji, used to Rise’s apartment after the work they were doing on the fashion show, was busy making tea for everyone.

“So...who did you guys talk to? And what about?”

“I...talked to mini-Kanji,” said Chie slowly.

“Ryuji Sakamoto, you mean?” prompted Kanji, suddenly interested.

“Oh? Is he your type?” teased Yosuke.

“Huh? Oh, no,” said Kanji, clearly too distracted to engage in banter, as he handed tea to everyone. Chie cradled hers close to her heart, as if she were cold. Yosuke passed his carefully from hand to hand, edgy.

“Yeah, I...talked to Sakamoto.”

There was a long pause.

“...and?” said Yosuke, “What did you learn?”

“He...doesn’t think I really care about Yukiko.”

Yosuke and Kanji blinked.

“What...what do you mean by that?”

“He said he’d seen real devotion...and that I didn’t have it.”

Yosuke and Kanji exchanged a concerned glance.

“You’re not taking him seriously, are you?” said Yosuke, “I mean, maybe he was just saying that to get you worked up.”

“But what if he’s right?” said Chie, worried, “Maybe I have just been trailing behind Yukiko this whole time. By the time we went into Dulcinea, I wasn’t even worried about her, I was just...angry. I’m  _ still _ angry. I didn’t even notice she was overworking!”

Kanji noticed the sharp intake of breath from Yosuke, though he doubted Chie did.

“I just...thought she was really passionate about the inn…” Chie looked miserable.

There was silence for a moment.

“What about you, Yosuke?” said Kanji.

“Oh, I uh, talked to Okumura-san,” said Yosuke, “Didn’t learn anything. She’s cute, though.”

Chie rolled her eyes. Kanji didn’t.

_ Yosuke’s trying too hard _ , thought Kanji.  _ And he’s not laughing _ .

Naoto had something she liked to say about interrogating suspects: stir them up, see what rises.

“I talked to Kitagawa-kun,” said Kanji, deliberately giving him the familiar term, “Seems like a decent dude. I can see why Yukiko might go with him.”

There was a crash as Chie’s cup hit the floor.

“What is  _ that _ supposed to mean?” yelled Chie, jumping to her feet, appalled.

“I’m not saying  _ I’m _ about to head over there anytime soon,” said Kanji, “But he seems decent. Kind, charming. I can see why Yukiko might want to head off with him.”

“He’s a  _ murderer _ .”

“So? Maybe that doesn’t matter to Yukiko,” retorted Kanji, “Look, he’s handsome; he clearly cares about her well being. He offered her something none of us thought to offer. He’s cultured, attractive, and I’m gonna be honest, I don’t think he’s all that romantically interested in her. Yukiko would like that. I’m not saying  _ I  _ want to jump him. I’m saying, I  _ understand _ why Yukiko would find him appealing.”

“That’s just as bad!” shouted Chie, practically shaking, “I mean, I mean...what are you  _ accusing _ me of?!”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Chie-sempai,” said Kanji evenly, “I think the only people accusing you of anything are Sakamoto and yourself.”

“You’re saying she ran off with a  _ murderer _ because he was  _ pretty _ ?!” snapped Chie.

“Hey!” interjected Yosuke, “I don’t think that’s what Kanji is saying at all, and if that’s what you think he’s saying then what does that say about  _ you _ , Chie? What does that say about what  _ you _ think of Yukiko?”

Chie was now trembling, visibly on the verge of either rage or a fit of tears; she went with the former, slapping Yosuke.

It was at this point Yu and Rise walked in.

“Satonaka!” snarled Yu, “Behave!”

_ He has  _ **_got_ ** _ to teach me that trick _ , thought Kanji, as Chie instantly snapped a salute. Something passed between Chie and Yu, before she dissolved into tears, falling into his arms.

And that was the state of things when Naoto arrived, so it was somewhat understandable that her reaction was not a polite greeting but:

“What in the  _ hell _ happened while I was gone?”

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ When Chie helped pull Yukiko to the surface, Yukiko’s kimono was streaked with mud and filth and her hair was full of dust; a far cry from her usual composed appearance. She was weeping with relief, and Chie was weeping as well, grabbing her so hard in a hug that the two’s tears mixed as they ran down their cheeks. _

_ “Don’t you scare me like that!” demanded Chie. _

_ “You saved me!” sobbed Yukiko, “I thought you would come, Chie, I thought you would, because you always do, and you did! Oh, Chie!” _

_ Any bitter thoughts Chie had about Yukiko died that night. _

_ Or so she thought. _


	9. .intermission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Phantom Thieves and Yukiko discuss their meeting with the Investigation Team at Dulcinea.

The entirety of the Phantom Thieves (plus Yukiko) were again gathered in the bar having a meeting.

“So none of them found out anything we didn’t want them to find?” asked Akira.

“Well, I think the short police detective found Ryuji’s temper…” said Futaba.

Ryuji, his feet on the bar and stool balanced on just the two legs, snorted.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Yukiko quietly. She was still learning when she was and was not allowed to speak up.

“Your friend Satonaka sucks,” said Ryuji. Yukiko frowned, which was all the warning the rest of the Thieves had for what happened next: her walking over, grabbing him by the ear and _yanking_ him so he fell off his stool, “ _Fucking hell!_ Was that necessary?”

“Chie is my _best_ friend,” insisted Yukiko.

“ _Chie_ ,” replied Ryuji, rising to his feet, “Did not notice that you were malnourished and working yourself to _death_ , and when offered the chance of fighting me to get through to you _backed the fuck down_.”

Yukiko flinched. Akira walked forward and gently put a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s enough, Ryuji,” he said, warningly.

“I rather liked Yosuke-kun,” said Haru.

“Hm?” said Yusuke.

“Oh, apologies - I meant Hanamura-kun.”

“Ah.”

“That is gonna get _so_ confusing so fast,” muttered Ryuji.

“Hanamura-kun seemed rather lonely. He also wanted to pass on his apologies to Yukiko for not doing anything about how miserable she was.”

Yukiko’s eyes suddenly became wide and rather wet.

“Yosuke knew?”

“Yes. But he was scared of being hated by your friends, uh, Chie? And Yu? He seemed very angry with himself.”

Yukiko laughed a little wetly.

“That sounds like Yosuke.”

Ann wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, at least _you_ didn’t get strawberry daiquiri thrown in your face for no reason! God! What was Kujikawa-san’s _problem_?”

“I cross-referenced your conversation with interviews Rise gave before, during and after her hiatus, as well as when she fully retired from being an idol and made the shift to being an actress,” announced Futaba from the bean bag fort she was busy constructing, “I _think_ she has cognitive dissonance regarding her sense of self leading to a decreased ego.”

“Uh...in something other than gobbledegook?” said Ryuji.

“Urgh! She doesn’t connect the Rise she sees on screen as being her, ergo this has extended to her sense of self in her day-to-day life.” When Futaba realized everyone was _still_ staring at her she groaned, and Makoto patted her on the head and answered for her:

“I believe what Futaba is _trying_ to say is: _Rise Kujikawa thinks she’s a fake_ . She spends her whole _life_ faking. She looks in the mirror and isn’t sure which Rise - the one on the stage or the one the mirror - is real.”

“Exactly!” said Futaba, “She has a diminished sense of self.”

“ _Ohhhhhh_ ,” said everyone else.

“I _think_ I get it?” said Ann, “So all of her talk about being genuine and who I really was…”

“You must have reminded her of herself, except you have no psychological problems. Therefore, thrown strawberry daiquiri.”

“Huh.”

“At least it was something delicious!” said Haru cheerfully. Ann laughed.

“I spoke to Kanji-kun,” said Yusuke.

“Oooooooo,” said Haru brightly, “Did you get a quote for my new yukata?”

“What? No. Although, you are the one with his card, Haru, I’m sure he’d be fine with you calling him up and asking.”

“What’s he _like_?” she asked.

“He is...decent. Generous. Kind.”

Futaba nodded.

“Him and Hanamura were the only two that tried to actually _talk_ and not pick fights. Well, and Narukami, but Akira decided to pick that fight.”

“I have minimal tolerance for cowards,” said Akira.

“I’m rather surprised to hear you describe him that way,” said Yukiko.

“All of them - bar Tatsumi and Hanamura - keep framing your decision to leave as if we kidnapped you. You’re an adult, Yukiko. Not a child with no agency or will, and they need to learn to accept that.”

Yukiko looked slightly puzzled by the latest outburst, but Futaba caught her eye and tapped her nose, indicating she’d explain later.

“Now,” said Akira, “Yukiko, we need to plan our next move. You may leave.”

“Don’t you want me to help?” she asked, “Isn’t that the other reason you helped me? Yusuke kept mentioning another reason - I assumed you’d want to bring it up.”

Akira looked stunned, but then his face warmed with a smile.

“No. No, I would never ask you to go against your friends, despite my own distaste for them. What you can do for us will become clear, in time, I promise.”

Yukiko looked down at her hands for a moment, before looking back up.

“I...I won’t give you information on them,” she said, “But if there’s a place where I can help, then I want to.”

Their faces warmed with smiles, even Ryuji, who Yukiko was fairly certain _never_ smiled. They were all striking in different ways; Haru’s tiny and secretive, Ann’s broad and cheerful, Akira’s smooth and handsome. Yusuke’s smile was relaxed and changed entirely the character of his face, while Futaba’s made her look, abruptly, very young indeed. Makoto, who, having not spoken to any of the Investigative Team, was looking smug, as if she’d anticipated this. And Ryuji smiled as if it had been so long he’d forgotten how to.

 _They're a_   _family,_ thought Yukiko.  _Am I...?_

Akira put his hand on her shoulder again.

"Thank you," he said warmly, and she felt, once again, like she had somewhere she belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘gobbledegook’ Futaba speaks regarding Rise is nonsense, but it is nonsense, as Terry Pratchett would say, made out of real ingredients. I think claiming that Rise’s problem in P4 is that of a deflated ego (in the Freudian sense) would not be an incorrect statement. Repeat similar nonsense at your own risk.
> 
> ETA: thanks to the anonymous commenter took 1 psych class who corrected some of the gobbledegook so it makes a bit more sense!


	10. Two Lost Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two unlikely people meet in Shinjuku and have a coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updates may be a bit erratic for a while; I'm trying to update every two-three days, but next month is going to be crunch time as far as my MA is concerned. I've been trying to stay about three chapters ahead (currently have up to chapter twelve written, will be writing up chapter thirteen after I post this). I don't *expect* to have to go on hiatus or for the update schedule to get overly erratic, but if it does happen, that will be why.  
> Thanks for sticking with me; can you believe we're almost halfway through?

The worst thing, as far as Goro was concerned, about being homeless, was constantly being cold. Didn’t matter how many clothes he found, how many rags he fumbled over himself, he always felt a deep, bone-marrow chill that was somehow more bitter than any loss.

Head down, messy, matted hair covering his face, he hoped he made a pathetic enough figure, huddled on the side, that nearby figures on their way to work in Shinjuku would spare him a few hundred Yen; at least enough for a halfway decent meal.

Of course, just because he was begging didn’t mean he wasn’t  _ working _ ; he was always working. He’d noticed that this particular day, Akira Kurusu had a tendency to come out to Shinjuku; Sae would not have approved of his pickpocketing the business men to get their travel cards, but needs must when the devil drives.

Peeking through his bangs, he spotted Akira heading over to a tiny fortune-teller stand. She greeted him warmly and familiarly, and the two talked for a while.

Someone dropped a coin in Goro’s hat. He mumbled a distracted thank you, trying to keep his eyes on Akira’s face, trying to ignore his gnawing hunger.

“Hey,” said a voice. Goro wasn’t listening; he was trying to read Akira’s lips, figure out if this woman was someone he could direct Shirogane toward. “ _ Hey _ ! I’m talkin’ to you!”

The blow caught him in the side, sending him and his coins sprawling and making him dizzy with pain.

“Wha...whu...huh…”

“I don’t  _ like _ homeless fuckers in front of my bar, it’s  _ bad for business _ . Go stink up someone’s else’s property!”

Goro was faintly aware of being lifted by the back of his shirt and then…

“If you punch him, you’ll regret it.”

The voice was cool, cold, calculating: Akira’s. Goro desperately tried to get his legs to work.

“Scum’s gotta get moving.”

Goro’s vision was still fuzzy; he saw two indistinct figure blur briefly into one, felt himself hit the pavement just as he heard a noise like a gasp of pain, and then heard a noise like someone hissing through their teeth.

“... _ now get out of my sight _ .”

Slowly, his vision began to clear, allowing him a good look at Akira, using a handkerchief to wipe away the - blood - of whoever had attacked him.

Intellectually, Goro knew he should be furious Akira just assaulted a man on his behalf, but you don’t live on the streets for near ten years without picking up an element of the pragmatic.

Groaning, Goro, tried to push himself up.

“Here,” said Akira, gently taking his shoulders, “Let me help you…”

His voice died in his throat as he got a good look at Goro, and he felt himself wince in spite of it.

“Ah,” said Akira, amused.  _ Amused _ ? Thought Goro. “So  _ this _ is where our little information leak sprang up.”

Startled, Goro stared at him.

“Come on. Let me treat you to lunch.”

-

“So, um,” said Goro staring around, “This is...nice.”

“This is leblanc,” said Akira, “Now, first we’ll get you fed. Then you’ll have a bath and I’ll sort out some clothes for you. Then we’ll clean up Sojiro’s attic. Then…”

“Slow down,” said the stern-faced barista, “You want him to stay  _ here _ ? Isn’t he your arch-enemy?”

“You need the help, Sojiro,” said Akira, with such wide-eyed innocence that neither Goro nor Sojiro believed it.

“...Right. Here are your curries.”

The smell rising from his plate made Goro’s stomach growl loudly enough that the barista stared, and Goro started devouring his curry at a rate of knots.

“Take it slowly,” said Akira, before sighing, “Am I just cursed at the moment to surround myself with the malnourished?”

“You’re referring to Amagi-san?” said Goro, wiping a bit of gravy from his cheek, puzzled, “I’m still not sure why you took her in. Information?”

“Don’t be crass,” said Akira, “There’s nothing she can give me that I don’t already know.”

“Then why?” asked Goro.

Akira briefly fiddled with his coffee cup, before speaking.

“This stays between us, you understand? It is not a confession.”

Goro sighed deeply.

“Sure, whatever.”

Dipping his finger into the coffee, Akira began drawing kanji on the coffee counter.

“Ten years ago, my friends and I sought to purge this world of those who had become distorted by sin: greed, gluttony, vanity, sloth, pride, lust, envy.” (drawing the kanji for each sin on the counter) “But there was a problem.”

Goro tilted his head inquisitively.

“The final sin - the sin we have not purged - is wrath. No adult came forward evincing wrath. I suspected you, for a while, but you are ultimately too good hearted. Even after I killed your father…”

“You know that Shido was my father?” said Goro, shocked. Akira gave him a droll look.

“Do you think I set up a bar because I enjoy the nightlife?”

“...fair enough.”

Akira looked down at the eight characters he’d written. Taking a napkin, he removed all but ‘wrath’.

“There was only one possible outcome. The purveyors of wrath - the only people it could be - were us.”

Goro thought he could feel it, the edges now, of Akira’s plan; what he and his friends were doing, but at that moment, Akira stopped talking and merely looked sad.

“Wrath is only a sin in excess,” said Goro after a while, “They are all of them merely sins in excess. You’ve committed no genocide, no slaughter of innocents. You don’t indulge in your anger. It is outside the boundaries of the law, yes, and I disagree with it, but I cannot deny that your justice is free of sin.”

Akira paused and smiled, genuinely pleased.

“That is a kind thing to say, but you and I both know it is a lie.”

Goro shrugged.

“If it were a lie, then why are you treating me kindly? You have no reason to be kind to me. You just admitted that I am a possible candidate for your wrath. Yet you feed me, and plan on clothing me and giving me a home and profession. Why?”

“I have a certain respect for worthy adversaries,” said Akira.

“Is Narukami not a worthy adversary?” asked Goro.

“Narukami?” Akira considered, “He may  _ become _ one. Shirogane certainly is. And Niijima was. And you are. I treat worthiness with the respect it deserves.”

“There you go,” said Goro, “Rather than eliminating me simply because I am difficult, you are expressing affection for those who have earned nothing. That, to me, is a godly trait.”

Akira leaned forward and took a sip of his coffee.

“I truly wish I had met you many years ago,” said Akira. Goro smiled.

“Likewise.”

-

Later than evening, Goro stood in the attic that had once been Akira’s and felt, for the first time in his life, complete.


	11. One Day, Three Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three people looking for answers; one finds a mission; another finds closure; a third, frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And having made a glorious week-long detour through the heady land of character development, we finally return to plot. A bit, anyway.  
> (Random side note: originally this omitted the middle story. But I decided some closure was needed regarding that particular story line.)

_ Yosuke’s Day _

He kept trying to tell himself he had no idea what was driving him to Dulcinea. Naoto was in the process of meeting her commissioner regarding her request for a warrant, and between the two of them, Yu and Naoto had blown their respective lids upon hearing that Kanji and Chie had essentially committed mild breaking and entering, so officially -  _ officially _ \- the whole group was on stand-by, and not supposed to leave. Yosuke had just said he was going to go get some lunch.

But here he was, outside Dulcinea.

He kept telling himself he had no idea, but he knew why.

Damn that Haru.

Damn  _ himself _ .

If he was honest, he wanted to see Haru again. Not - like that. Just to talk. He felt like all the pressures and loneliness and stuff he’d hid under a smile for nigh-on fifteen years were suddenly building up and needed to be said, and when he imagined Haru’s kind smile, it got a lot harder to  _ not _ just bang on the door and demand to see her.

But he’d got a good look at Sakamoto and Kurusu the night they told Yu to get the fuck out. They would react  _ really _ badly to that. So he politely knocked on the door and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And became uncomfortably aware he could hear...shouting?

“ _ You are  _ **_not_ ** _ going  _ **_anywhere_ ** _!” _ the walls made it indistinct, but it sounded like...Kurusu?

_ “I’m sorry, since when was this place a  _ **_prison_ ** _?!”  _ yelled another, unfamiliar voice.

_ “This isn’t a  _ **_game_ ** _. You could  _ **_die_ ** _ ,”  _ snapped Kurusu.

_ “I’m going to die if I stay here a moment longer!” _

_ “This conversation is over. Go to your room.”  _

The door abruptly opened.

“Yeah?” said Sakamoto.

“Uh, hi,” said Yosuke, “I came to see Haru, but if it’s a bad time…”

Sakamoto ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further.

“No, dude, it’s cool, just another day in the House of Teenage Arguments.”

“What?” said Yosuke, “I thought you all went to high school together.”

“We did,” said Sakamoto, “Some of us just decide to act more like  _ parents _ than like  _ peers _ .”

Yosuke tilted his head.

“You don’t approve of him keeping whoever it is locked up.”

“Hell no, I don’t…”

The conversation was abruptly cut off by a tiny, orange-haired figure with huge glasses running out, carrying only a huge case.

“I’m leaving,” she squeaked at Sakamoto, “Don’t you  _ dare _ stop me!”

She turned and stomped out, dragging her heavy case behind her.

“Aren’t you...going to stop her?” asked Yosuke.

Sakamoto shrugged.

“She’s an adult. She wants to leave it’s up to her.”

There was a rather pathetic squeak as the case overturned and knocked the orange-haired woman off her feet.

“Though I gotta be honest, Futa-chan on her own is uh...a mess waiting to happen…” Sakamoto rubbed the back of his head.

“Look,” said Yosuke, “If you promise you’ll have Haru contact me, I’ll look after her.”

Sakamoto looked at him, slightly askance.

“Why?”

Yosuke swallowed.

“I... _ we _ ...had a little sister. She’d be about her age now if she hadn’t…” Yosuke swallowed hard again, “Anyway. I’ll be back.”

The orange-haired woman - Futa-chan? - was struggling to get the case off her.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled at Yosuke.

“Hey,” he said, “Easy. I just wanna help,” and uprighted her case, easily lifting it off her tiny body, “Why don’t I treat you to lunch, and you can tell me why you want away from your family?”

-

Lunch quickly became a tearful affair.

Futaba Sakura - that was her name - dissolved rapidly into incoherent sobs about tombs and death and her mother, and Yosuke was hard put to get her to eat. Eventually, he gave up on food at all, and just held her, very gently. She froze, like a deer in headlights, before slowly relaxing against his chest.

“Why are you being nice to me?” she asked.

“You’re sad,” he said, “Doesn’t take a lot of empathy to be nice to someone who’s sad.”

“You’re not just doing this to make up for Yuki-chan?” she asked.

Yosuke sighed.

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a little bit because of that. Maybe if I’d done this for her we wouldn’t be in this mess. But then, I guess, if I’d done this for her, I wouldn’t be here to do it for you. Universe is funny, that way.”

Futaba wiped her tears away and gave him an odd look, as if she’d expected something, and he hadn’t been it, but then Chie arrived to pick them up, and she rapidly became silent, tears running quietly down her face as they made their way to Naoto’s apartment.

-

“Well,” said Yu, “I’m not a doctor, but I think she’s in shock. We’ll need to keep her lying down, her feet elevated and above all else, keep her warm.”

They were in Naoto’s guest room, where Yu had been staying up to this point, and Futaba was lying on the bed, looking a bit on the pale side, and shivering quite a lot.

“Gotcha covered,” said Kanji, bringing in a futon that looked like it was made from a bear.

“What in the name of sanity is  _ that _ ?” said Chie, aghast.

“It’s my winter futon,” said Kanji, “I get cold. What?” he said, puzzled at the shocked reactions.

The girls got her lying down and Kanji tucked the monstrous duvet around her tiny body. Rise, noticing Futaba’s long hair, combed it to the side and braided it so it wouldn’t get tangled.

“Can I get you anything, Futa-chan?” asked Yosuke, “Miso, tea, ramen?”

Futaba shook her head.

“Do you just want to sleep?”

She nodded, eyes already slipping closed.

“Do you want anything?”

Her hand slipped out of the futon to grasp Yosuke’s wrist.

“Stay,” she mumbled, and drifted to sleep.

“Well that was...unexpected,” said Yu.

“Yeah,” said Yosuke, looking at the tear marks still vivid red on Futaba’s face, “Tell me about it.”

-

_ Sae’s Day _

It had been many years since Sae Niijima had gone to leblanc; procedure following a witness protection scheme was to avoid all previous haunts. But the letter in her mailbox and what it hinted at was too strong to ignore.

Leblanc had barely changed, though Sojiro Sakura’s voice, snapping loudly at someone, was starting to creak with age.

Stepping through, the familiar smells of spice and coffee drifted, and Sojiro’s voice got louder.

“You’ll never make a decent cup grinding like that, you numbskull! Now look, you’ve burnt the coffee! You can smell it! Start over! I swear…”

“Apologies, Sakura-san.”

_ That voice… _

Sae felt as if she had been slapped in the face.

Sojiro turned.

“What can I get you…” his voice died as he saw her.

“H…hello, Sojiro,” she said shakily. The smaller figure behind him dropped a cup.

“Well,” said Sojiro, “I guess the two of you have a lot to talk about,  _ right _ , Akechi-kun?”

He looked up. His brown eyes met her gray ones.

It was like the earth fell out from beneath her feet, and the next thing she knew she was on the ground, weeping.

“You were dead,” she gasped, “You were dead. You were dead and dead and dead…”

“No, Niijima... _ Sae _ . I’m alive,” said Goro, helping her to a booth, “I’m alive.”

-

“Why homeless? Why did you leave?”

Goro scowled.

“I told you; I wanted to continue the investigation. But, since Goro Akechi had been filed MIA, that meant my assets were frozen, my social security number was listed void...I was a non-person. I had no means of income, I had nothing. My only  _ option _ was to become homeless.”

“It must have been terrible.”

“In some ways it was the perfect disguise,” said Goro, “Nobody notices the impoverished. In other ways, it was the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done. You...you don’t see humanity at it’s best when you’re homeless.”

Sae’s eyes were full with tears.

“People will kick you, beat you, take your stuff; they’ll accuse you of everything, from being a criminal to being a drug addict. They’ll say nasty shit about you and assume you’re too dumb to understand. It’s...rough.”

Sae’s hand came out and she caught his wrist, taking his hand in both of hers.

“But you’re safe now,” she said, “You’re safe, and nobody will touch you ever again.”

He looked at Sae, and realized, in a way he hadn’t ever really, just how much his disappearance had hurt her, and how much knowing what he had intended to do had divided her.

He smiled for her, as warmly as he could, and it felt good.

“Yes, Sae,” he said, “You and I are safe, now.”

-

_ Naoto’s Day _

Naoto was at the police department, having been called in for a meeting, and given that they’d already made her wait ten minutes longer than the supposed meeting time, she was feeling the distinct opposite of sanguine.

The door opened and the commissioner stood there, looking unimpressed.

“Well, Shirogane, let’s get this over with.”

“Sir,” she said, following him into the office.

“I don’t know Shirogane,” he said wearily settling at the desk, “I tell you you can move to cold cases and you take the Phantom Thieves case. I tell you you can take it and you ignore direct protocol to go and talk to someone in witness protection. I tell you you can call in your friends from Inaba and one of them almost starts an incident with a potential suspect.”

“Sir, I thought we were discussing my request for a warrant, not my many faults as a police detective,” said Naoto.

“We’re discussing what I  _ say _ we discuss, Shirogane,” snapped her superior, “You want me to give you a warrant based on the conclusions of an investigation  _ closed _ ten years ago!”

“It’s not just that…” said Naoto, “There’s more evidence…” and then she paused.

“Oh?” he said, “Like what?”

She  _ wanted _ to say, “Goro Akechi, in his career, was generally considered to have a pristine record, and  _ he _ thinks they are the Phantom Thieves; so do I. We have a hunch, and I  _ need _ that warrant to fulfil my hunch.”

But she didn’t want to risk Akechi’s life.

So she bowed her head.

“There is no evidence, sir,” she said, “Just...a hunch.”

“I do  _ not _ give out warrants based on hunches,” he snapped, “And I’d think you’d have learned your lesson about proper policework after the Nametame incident!”

Naoto flinched.

“Shirogane, get me something  _ concrete _ : a recording, a photo, a fingerprint,  _ something _ that puts them at the scene of a crime. Then, and  _ only then _ will I happily give you your warrant.”

“So this is all to punish me?” she snarled.

“ _ Yes _ ,” he replied, “And you’d do well to consider why you deserve it. Dismissed.”

Naoto felt herself positively vibrate with frustration, but now was not the time or place; she bowed, cursorily, and left, ignoring the calls of her colleagues, until she’d reached the exterior of the police department, where she swore, and slammed a fist against the brickwork, ignoring the blood that ran down her hand.

Another. Damn. Dead. End.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ “I swear Dojima, it’s not just Nametame working here!” she pleaded, “The timelines don’t match up, they don’t make sense! He has to be working with somebody, somebody whose job it was to remove the bodies from the mineshafts and hang them from the telephone poles!” _

_ “Who?” said Dojima, “How? The plans for those mines are lost. How would anybody know? There are no phonecalls logged on Nametame’s phone, no records of Nametame having spent time outside his house. Nametame remembered where the sinkholes and came back for them the next foggy day…” _

_ “But doesn’t that seem just a bit unlikely? How could one man get down into the sinkhole, get a body, and climb back up without aid?” _

_ For a brief moment, Dojima looked convinced. But then Adachi spoke up. _

_ “He tied the rope to his car, tied the body to the other end, climbed up on his own and then drove, pulling the body out of the sinkhole. Simple.” _

_ “But…” that didn’t make  _ **_sense_ ** _ , Naoto wanted to say; it took three people just to pull Yukiko Amagi out of the sinkhole; you couldn’t  _ **_climb_ ** _ out. But Dojima was looking at Adachi approvingly, because he was a grown man, and she was just a child. _

_ Always, just a child. _


	12. .intermission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Phantom Thieves react to Futaba leaving. Or, rather, Akira reacts.

Akira knocked politely at Futaba’s door.

“Futa-chan?” he called gently. “Futaba, I’m sorry I yelled.”

There was no reply. That was odd; Futaba normally  _ loved _ when Akira apologized; it gave her an opportunity to act all wise and mysterious.

A nasty, sneaking suspicion started to rise in Akira’s mind as he opened the door slowly and…

“Oh, you noticed,” said Ryuji from behind.

Akira, turned slowly, trying very, very hard to keep his temper under wraps.

“You mean to tell me you...you just…”

“Let her go? Sure. That Hanamura guy was visiting, he said he’d take care of her. Seemed the thing to do.”

Akira counted to ten. Then counted to ten again.

“It’s  _ Futaba _ . She can’t...she can’t be  _ outside _ are you  _ mad _ ?!” snapped Akira, feeling his temper fray.

“Sure she can,” said Ryuji, frustratingly unruffled by Akira’s temper, “Hell, she has a good plan and you know it. You’re just way,  _ way _ overprotective of her. And if you stopped and  _ thought _ rather than just  _ reacted _ you’d know it, too.”

Ryuji calmly walked away, bumping into Yukiko.

“Oh, Yuki-chan. You heard all that?” he asked.

“Oh, dear, yes. Is he all right?”

“He’s a bit out of sorts. He’ll be fine, but I’d leave him alone for now. If you need me, I’ll be with Makoto in the garage.”

Yukiko raised an eyebrow at that.

“Should I knock before entering?” she asked. Ryuji gave one of his dark half-smiles.

“You pick up  _ quick _ , Yuki-chan. It’s kinda hot…” He started waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her.

Yukiko removed her fan from her pocket and promptly hit him on the backside, sending him running down the corridor, whooping with laughter.

“Well,” said Akira from where he was sulking, “You’ve certainly got everyone around here a lot more cheerful.”

Yukiko slowly slid into a barstool and regarded Akira, who was busy pouring himself a few fingers of whiskey, and preparing a lemon lime and bitters for Yukiko (after the first day, the Phantom Thieves had picked up that Yukiko was not a casual drinker). The silence was pleasant; Akira seemed to know what Yukiko was building up to saying, and was comfortable waiting for her to come to it.

“You told me you didn’t like Narukami because he didn’t regard me as an individual with my own agency,” she said, “But that’s not the whole truth is it? You don’t like Yu because you see too much of yourself in him.”

Akira sighed, whiskey glass hanging loosely in his hand.

“As Ryuji noted, you are picking up very quick. And under thankless conditions.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“This  _ was _ Futaba’s decision,” said Yukiko.

“I know; Ryuji’s right. Once I’ve got my head right, I’ll be okay. But...I’m worried for her.”

“Who’s she with?”

“Hanamura.”

“Yosuke?” said Yukiko, “He wouldn’t hurt a fly. He can be a bit crude, yes, but he’d never hurt anyone on purpose.”

“Akira?” it was Haru. She saw him moping and turned to Yukiko, “He found out about Futaba.”

Akira stood up, looking stung.

“Did literally  _ everyone _ in this bar know except me?”

“Yes,” said Haru, unperturbed, “I just thought you should know, plans are going ahead. I’ve also made adjustments for...extenuating circumstances.”

Yukiko and Akira nodded.

“Cheer up!” said Haru, “Futa-chan is smart. She won’t do anything stupid.”

Akira reached over, caught her hand, and smiled up at her.

“Thank you, Haru,” he said. She dimpled at him, then looked at Yukiko.

“If he gets into the sake, let me know and I’ll get my camera; that’s when the  _ real _ fun starts.”

Yukiko hid a smile as Akira sputtered and Haru wafted away.

It was only after she left Yukiko realized that the red on Haru's face was probably blood, not paint.

Strangely, it didn't bother her as it might have done a few days ago.


	13. The Paths of Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Investigative Team attempts to get information out of Futaba with...unexpected consequences.

“...and now she’s in your guest room,” finished Yosuke.

Naoto had come in looking a few degrees short of unhinged, explained tersely that she didn’t have a warrant, then been sat down by Kanji, given a cup of green tea, and slowly soothed into something roughly approaching humanity. That was when Kanji, Rise, Yu and Yosuke sprang the news on her; Chie was the one currently on ‘Phantom Thief Watch’, though in fairness, Futaba had barely moved since being put in bed.

Naoto had not taken it well, and Kanji had basically been stuck with his hands on her shoulders, attempting to soothe her back into humanity.

“So…” said Naoto, in a voice, “While I was out you  _ adopted _ a  _ Phantom Thief _ .”

“Phantom Thief suspect!” said Yosuke quickly. Naoto gave him a flat look.

“ _ Indeed _ .”

Everyone in the room bar Kanji winced at that tone of voice. Kanji just stood up and gave Naoto a cool look.

“Nao-chan, if you’re gonna throw a hissy fit, you can find a hotel to stay in because you are  _ not _ talking to  _ that girl _ in  _ that mood _ .”

“ _ Hey _ \- - !” started Naoto. The two then glared at each other intensely, before Naoto sighed, “ _ Fine _ . She can stay.”

“Did...they just have an argument entirely telepathically?” asked Yosuke.

“They do that sometimes,” said Rise, “It’s weird, but kinda cute.”

Naoto was rubbing her forehead.

“Rise,” she said, “I’d like you to talk to her. And Kanji, you too.”

“You don’t want to?” said Yu.

“She is a criminal, at the moment, immediately on the run from criminals. I think having civilians talk to her rather than police officers would be the best idea. Besides, I want Yu to track down Goro for me.”

“Me?” said Yu, “Why?”

“Akechi said he was going to try and find more information, but I haven’t heard from him in the last ten hours; his phone went dead somewhere in Yongen-Jaga. He is still one of our best sources of information on the Phantom Thieves. As for why you, you’re a police officer, and honestly, I can’t guarantee I’m not going to bite anyone’s head off right now. I need migraine medication and a lie down.”

“So long as you  _ do _ lie down,” rumbled Kanji.

“Don’t start, Kanji-kun,” grumbled Naoto.

“They are so weird,” said Yosuke, “Do they only call each other affectionate nicknames when they’re angry?”

“Yeah,” said Rise, “I dunno, it’s weird.”

“Yosuke,” said Naoto, “I want  _ you _ and Chie watching the girl every time she’s not being interrogated. You’re the ones who saved her; she may tell you something she won’t tell the others.”

“Aye, ma’am,” said Yosuke.

“And I’m going to bed,” said Naoto.

“Damn right you’re…” started Kanji.

“ _ Kanji-kuuuuun _ ,” replied Naoto in something that sounded suspiciously like an irritated whine. Rise promptly dissolved into giggles.

-

Rise and Kanji edged carefully into the guest room.

“Oh, hi,” said Chie brightly. Rise winced; her smile was as brittle as frost.

“Hi,” said Rise, “We’re here to talk to Futa-chan?”

“She’s been sleeping the whole time,” shrugged Chie, “Knock yourselves out,” and she wafted out.

“Still not taking it well,” said Kanji with a shake of the head.

Rise and Kanji then yelled in unison when, like a jack-in-the-box, Futaba popped upright.

“Pay me silver?” she said in a strangely singsong voice, “Mark me with a kiss?”

“Uhhh...h-h-hi, Futa-chan,” said Rise, “My name is Rise Kujikawa. I’m sure you’ve seen me on TV, or heard me on the radio? This is my friend Kanji Tatsumi. We’re just here to ask you a few questions about your life at Dulcinea.”

“Questions?” she enquired.

“We just want to know the truth about the people you were living with,” said Kanji.

“ _ The truth may be stretched thin, but it never breaks, and it always surfaces above lies, as oil floats on water _ ,” Futaba quoted.

“That’s pretty,” said Rise, “Who wrote it?”

Futaba merely sniffed at her.

“Tell us about Kurusu-san,” said Kanji, “Yosuke said he heard you argue.”

“Akira?” she replied, “Akira…”

“Yeah, him.”

“...They were afraid...ashamed...they chose to conceal…”

Rise was looking enraptured, but Kanji deadpan interrupted,

“Akira  _ Kurusu _ , not the Akira by Katsuhiro Otomo.”

Rise looked baffled, but Futaba giggled.

“Hey,” said Rise, snapping her fingers, “We want to know why you ran away.”

Futaba smiled, eyes vacant.

“ _ Big or small, _

_ Short or tall, _

_ There’s one fate comes to us all; _

_ We go to bed, _

_ Close our eyes, _

_ And leave behind a nest of flies.” _

Something about the way she sang it made the hair on the back of Kanji’s neck rise.

“Is that their plan?” he asked, “Make us a nest of flies?”

Futaba laughed, somewhat dreamily.

“Oh, this is going nowhere, she’s fried,” snapped Rise, out of patience, “I’m going to get Yosuke, maybe he can get something out of her.”

“Sounds fine,” said Kanji.

As rise swished out, Kanji swore he head Futaba murmur something.

“Huh? What’s that?” he asked.

“Rosalind...Rosalind...Rosalind…”

“Rosalind?” he said, “Who’s Rosalind?”

She smiled, and it occurred to him there was a malicious edge to the smile.

“Romeo loves Rosalind in the first act, but Rosalind doesn’t see him; Queen Mab has driven Romeo mad, so that he believes if he loves Rosalind hard enough, she will give up her vows for him.”

He could hear footsteps coming; Yosuke always walked kind of hard. Futaba showed her teeth; it reminded him of a shark, if sharks were young and cute and fragile.

“Are you Rosalind? Or are you Romeo?”

Kanji liked to think that, in the intervening fifteen years, he had gotten a grip on his temper; that living with a frustrating detective like Naoto had taught him to think before he did things.

But following the logic of Futaba’s statements made him fifteen years old again, and his fury snapped back into his voice in a second.

“What in  _ hell _ are you saying?” he snarled. He was literally trembling; it had been so long since he had felt  _ this _ angry; he’d forgotten what it was like.

“ _ Love is a smoke rais’d with the fume of sighs, being purg’d a fire sparkl’ng in lover’s eyes, being vex’d a sea nourished with loving tears! What is it else? A madness most discreet; a choking gall, and a preserving sweet... _ that’s how you see her, yes?”

“Hey, Kanji, I... _ whoa, what the  _ **_fuck_ ** _?!” _

Kanji didn’t remember punching the wall. He remembered Yosuke walking in and seeing him, and the red rage slowly starting to fade. He remembered Yosuke carefully walking him to the door, where Rise and Chie screamed over the mess he made of his hand and bandaged it up.

And he remembered falling into bed behind the already sleeping Naoto, and burying his head in her hair, breathing in her smell - sandalwood and gun polish - and starting to cry.

-

“Oh, yeah,” said the owner of a second hand store in the backstreets of Yongen-Jaga, “I’ve seen a man like that. He’s working for Sakura-san at leblanc.”

Yu blinked. That was...an unexpected response.

“Of his own free will?” came the words, somewhat unwillingly.

The shopkeeper stared at him as if he had started speaking Ancient Sumerian.

“...yes?”

“T-thank you,” Yu felt more than a little unnerved as he asked for and received directions to leblanc. One day Goro Akechi is a homeless man following every move of the people he suspects to be the Phantom Thieves, the next he’s working in a coffee shop?

A tinny bell rang as Yu entered the dark, wood-panelled cafe. Chalkboards had the daily specials for curry and coffee sketched up. Large coffee siphon percolators happily bubbled away, filling the room with a rich smell.

And, looking much tidier and neater (and above all else,  _ cleaner _ ) than Yu had previously seen him was Goro Akechi, washing dishes in the back.

“Sakura-san?” Goro called, “I’m almost done with the dishes, did you get the new vegetables for the curry?”

When Yu didn’t answer, Goro stopped what he was doing and turned, drying his hands.

“Ah, it’s you,” he said, “Shirogane-san’s friend from Inaba. I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Yu Narukami,” replied Yu, “What are you doing here?”

Goro shrugged.

“Akira Kurusu found me out.”

“...and made you a barista?” said Yu.

“Unbelievable, I know,” smiled Goro.

“Is he blackmailing you or something?”

Goro paused, leaning against the bench.

“Goodness, you really are incapable of perceiving your enemies as three-dimensional people, capable of empathy, aren’t you?” he commented, “No wonder Akira thinks so little of you.”

Yu bit the inside of his cheek, counted to ten, and then responded.

“My own faults as a human being aside, Naoto sent me to find out if you had any new information on the Phantom Thieves. Since you’ve directly interacted with one, surely you...”

Goro smiled.

“You know what? No.”

Yu felt his face alternately pale, and then flush.

“What?”

“You really think I’m here because I was  _ blackmailed _ rather than because I was shown  _ empathy _ ? No. I won’t do your job for you. I’ll deal with Shirogane-san. Maybe.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” yelled Yu.

“I was homeless for  _ ten years _ ,” said Akechi, “What did you sacrifice for this case?”

Yu trembled, then looked away.

“I thought so,” he replied, “Get out.”

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ “They didn’t listen to me,” spat Naoto. _

_ “Of course they didn’t,” said Yu, “We’ve been withholding evidence from the police for months, we’re lucky they’re not charging us with obstruction of justice.” _

_ His voice was coming out dull and brittle from all the crying he’d been doing. _

_ “That’s absolutely no excuse!” said Naoto, “It just couldn’t have been Nametame on his own!” _

_ “Give it  _ **_up_ ** _ Naoto!” said Rise, “Nanako is dead...what does it even matter anymore?” _

_ That cut through Naoto’s ferocity. _

_ For a long moment, they all stood there, silent. _

_ “Doesn’t matter, does it?” asked Kanji, “Not when Nanako-chan is gone?” _

_ “No,” said Yu, “It really doesn’t.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Futaba quotes Don Quixote, a bit of the Otomo’s Akira manga, a slightly altered quote from the Beasts of Burden comic book series (which I highly recommend if you like horror, beautiful watercolor and adorable animals) and Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet. “Pay me silver? Mark me with a kiss?” isn’t an explicit quote, but it is a Biblical reference, albeit a rather unsubtle one.


	14. Here But For The Grace of God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yosuke, horrified by Kanji's loss of temper, returns to Dulcinea in an attempt to figure out what the hell is going on.

After Naoto had seem the mess of Kanji’s hand and heard for herself what had gone down with Futaba, she had declared the girl “Possible insane, definitely dangerous”. Since Futaba seemed to leave Chie alone and actively liked Yosuke, the two of them had been set as her guards, with stern instructions to get anyone else if she started doing something strange.

Yosuke hadn’t said anything, but this struck him as  _ immensely _ fishy. She had been perfectly coherent - even rather charming - right up until Chie arrived, when she started doing her best impression of Linda Blair on steroids. He wasn’t a detective, or a police officer, but Yosuke  _ was _ a salesperson, and he knew when he was being conned.

Which was why today, while Chie kept Futaba under close guard, he was heading to Dulcinea, to find out what  _ was _ going on.

He’d deliberately picked early in the day. It was a club, right? That meant early was probably when the Thieves - or whoever they were - were almost certainly not at their best.

It wasn’t that Yosuke  _ disliked _ any of Dulcinea’s inhabitants, but they had very, very much had all of them on the back foot. He wanted a chance to turn the tables.

_ Are you sure?  _ Asked a voice inside him,  _ Or do you just want a chance to talk to them, alone, without Chie’s bitterness and Yu’s wrath? _

...Okay, that was also part of it.

Frowning to himself - even in his own head he couldn’t win an argument - Yosuke pounded at the front door.

He wasn’t sure who he was expecting to answer - Sakamoto, Takamaki, maybe even Kurusu - but the woman who answered was someone who had not been present the night they’d visited Dulcinea, an attractive, slight brunette with ruby eyes whose hair was mussed from sleep and who was rubbing at her face.

Yosuke felt his face flare up when he realized she wore only cotton white panties and a matching tank top.

“Wha…?” she mumbled sleepily, “Oh, you must be Hanamura-san.” She yawned hugely, “Sorry, it was a long night. C’mon in.”

Feeling distinctly uncomfortable, he followed her in.

“I, uh,” said Yosuke, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m Makoto Niijima.”

Yosuke noticed abruptly, in a manner that made the hair on the back of his neck tingle, that she wore a set of well-worn brass knuckles.

At the bar sat Sakamoto, looking equally dishevelled in a colorful t-shirt and black boxers and Kurusu, pouring himself a cup of coffee so strong it looked like it could bench press. Kurusu looked tired, but more than that, he looked emotionally drained. Makoto vanished for a while, and there was a sense of door-knocking and general grumbling, until the rest of the group, sans Yukiko, appeared, in various states of undress.

“Well, you got us,” yawned Sakamoto, “ _ Maaaaaaaaaaaaaan _ , I could use sleep.”

Makoto rolled her eyes and lightly cuffed his head in a manner that made Yosuke think the two might be lovers. But then he noticed a chilliness between Sakamoto and Kutigawa that reminded him of when Yukiko and Yu had broken up and  _ ohmygooooooooood what was even going  _ **_on_ ** _ here… _

“So  _ why _ am I up and not sleeping?” asked Takamaki, breaking Yosuke from the downward spiral his head had been circling. She was in a silk negligee and was wrapping a dressing gown barely larger than it around her figure that would have been  _ deeply _ distracting if Yosuke hadn’t spent his teen years around Rise.

“Oh...um, oh! Futaba,” he said.

The entire group turned to look at Kurusu, who sighed.

“She made her choice,” he said.

Satisfied, the group turned back to Yosuke.

“No. That’s not what I mean.”

Various expressions of confusion and worry started to make their way across people’s faces.

“She is eating right, isn’t she?” said Haru suddenly, “Oh dear, she does tend to forget.”

“No, that’s not it either.”

“She isn’t being a bother?” said Kitagawa, “She’s a wretched girl, but a dear child nonetheless.”

“She’s a year younger than you, bro,” sniped Sakamoto. Kitagawa sniffed and pouted.

“ _ No _ !” snapped Yosuke, “She’s eating fine! She’s not being a wretched child! But  _ why _ is she with me? And don’t give me some crap about her not liking it here anymore!”

An odd thing happened; for a moment - a split second - shock was painted on all of them, from expressions to body language. Then, just as suddenly, they clamped down on, as one unit, returning to their normal body language. It was eerie, but it let Yosuke know he was onto something.

“Bro,” said Sakamoto, “You got it all wrong…”

“I don’t think I do,” Yosuke said, “She was arguing with Kurusu-san just fine the other day - perfectly coherent and normal, asking me normal, regular questions, reacting like any normal twenty-something. I get her home and suddenly she’s the fucking Cheshire Cat?  _ That _ is  _ not _ how normal people act, unless they’re hiding something.”

“Dude,” there was no mistaking, Sakamoto was definitely nervous, “I think you’re definitely…”

“What’s in her suitcase, Ryuji?” asked Yosuke, locking eyes with him, “She hasn’t opened the damn thing once; it’s got a twenty-digit combination on it, so whatever she’s hiding, it isn’t clothes. It’s a computer, isn’t it?”

There was a moment of silence, in which Ryuji’s angry withdrawal told Yosuke everything he needed to know. To his surprise, the person to step forward next was Haru.

“Yosuke, it’s fine,” she said, “Futaba isn’t there to hurt or spy on anyone. She’s just there to…”

“Make my best friend punch a wall so hard he almost breaks a hand?” asked Yosuke. Haru winced; perhaps not unsurprisingly, given the brass knuckles, so did Makoto, “Was that what you sent her there to do?”

“Have you told anyone this?” asked Makoto.

“No,” said Yosuke, “But only because I figured you wanted me to  _ help _ Futaba more than you wanted me dead.”

“What are you terms?” asked Kurusu.

“Back the fuck off my friends,” said Yosuke, “Aside from that, well, we’ll talk.”

There was a long moment of silence, then Makoto took a small, radio transmitter out of her pocket and flicked it to on.

“Queen to Oracle,” she said, “Plan Brainwash is cancelled. Repeat: Plan Brainwash is cancelled.”

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ Yosuke had had the idea of trying to find a plan for the old mining circuits. Yu had given him that smile that meant he did good, and the two had gone searching for mining tunnels that were close enough to the surface - or that might have shifted in earthquakes - to form sinkholes. Plenty of them had become caved in, tiny air pockets under the ground, accessible only in the rain. _

_ The problem was, the map wasn’t complete, and it bothered Yosuke, like a loose tooth, through the whole investigation. The part of the map that led straight under town and past the Samegawa was missing, and that niggled him. _

_ If that part was missing - had been stolen - that was almost certainly how the killer was getting around. _

_ He was wrong, it would turn out. But not as wrong as he’d like. _


	15. Emerging Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yosuke proposes a plan to the Investigation Team. He also proposes a theory.

“Still asleep,” pronounced Chie from the doorway to the guest room, “Have you found all the bugs yet?”

The apartment was in disarray. Fidgeting and twitchy, Naoto had been wandering the apartment when she noticed signs that one of their bookcases, a large, heavy, mahogany antique, had been moved. Instantly, her and Kanji were shifting it, revealing a small microphone attached to the back with a radio.

This prompted a full house sweep, finding ones in the bathroom (tucked under the sink) in the kitchen (behind a piece of Japanese calligraphy - a gift from Yukiko) and in both bedrooms (behind the nightstands).

“I’m reasonably certain, yes,” said Naoto, using a screwdriver to take apart the last bug (ignoring the high-pitched squealing that emerged, and then died), “And it tells us something very important.”

“What?”

“It was an  _ opportunistic _ bugging as opposed to a  _ thorough _ bugging.”

Chie thought about that a sec.

“You mean the guy knew of a time no one would be in and had to set the bugs as quickly as possible?”

“Yes. He was going for  _ efficiency _ rather than for necessarily getting us everywhere, hence why Kanji’s studio wasn’t bugged; it would have taken too long.”

“Or he just figured nobody was going to be talking there,” said Chie.

“Or that,” said Naoto.

Kanji smiled faintly. Naoto was worried about him. He’d been very...quiet, since his talk with Futaba. Having finished taking the last bug apart and adding it to the pile of electrical bits, she rubbed his back lightly, prompting him to catch her hand and kiss her wrist.

“Euch, couples,” sighed Chie, “Any idea where Yosuke is?”

“None,” said Naoto.

Chie made a face.

“Hope we don’t have another deserter.”

“Chie,” said Naoto. Chie turned and gave her a flat look, “You know...Yukiko didn’t leave  _ at _ you.”

Chie’s face didn’t change.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Naoto sighed.

Yu walked in from the bathroom, Rise trailing behind.

“Yup, that’s all of them,” he said, “No more bugs we can find.”

“Excellent,” said Naoto, “Really, we should have done this sooner, but it seemed more expedient to just move to Rise’s place, but with Futaba…”

“We don’t really want to risk anything, Naoto, we know.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door. A quick glance got exchanged between the group, and Naoto cautiously answered, revealing Yosuke, looking severely out of breath.

“Yosuke you dumbass,” yelled Chie, “I’ve been stuck watching sleeping beauty all day! Where have you been?”

“Dulcinea,” he replied, “Talking to Yukiko.”

Everybody froze at that, before ushering him in.

“You... _ talked _ to her…?

“Yeah. I think I know how we can get her back.”

“Get her back?” said Yu, “I thought she left of her own accord.”

“That’s not what she said,” replied Yosuke, “I think we need to call them and offer a trade; Yukiko for Futaba.”

“You’re not seriously suggesting…!” said Naoto.

“Of course I’m not,” said Yosuke, “What do you think I am, nuts?”

For a moment, there was silence, as everybody mulled it over.

“Naoto, it’s your case,” said Yu, “Your call.”

She tapped her teeth with a thumbnail.

“If we let them pick the meeting place, they’ll think they have the upper hand,” she said, “Then, once we’ve made the exchange, we can call in the police.”

“They’ll probably pick Dulcinea,” said Yu, “It’s their home territory, it’s got limited access, if they have people in the top stories they can see who is coming; we’ll have to use plains clothes.”

Naoto nodded and picked up her phone and dialled a number.

“I’m at work,” said a muffled voice.

“Akechi, I need you to contact Kurusu-san.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because we’re willing to make a deal with him.”

There was a long pause.

“That seems...inadvisable,” he replied.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Naoto asked, “Our investigation has stalled. I have bugs in my apartment that I could probably dust for prints, but that assumes that any of the suspects have prints on file, which given how far ahead of us they’ve been up to this point, as well as the fact that they clearly have connections to the police, is laughable. Getting the prints would take time, as would getting the warrant and we don’t have time. We need to move quickly.”

“...Very well.”

A click, and the call was over.

“Now we wait,” said Yu.

After a few minutes, Naoto’s phone began ringing. Warily, she answered.

“Am I speaking to Akira Kurusu?”

“You are indeed,” he replied, “And what sort of  _ deal _ are you offering that I would be interested in?”

“Yukiko for Futaba,” she answered. There was a sharp intake of breath, before he replied again, smooth as chocolate.

“Hmmm...dealing in people, that’s very hazardous for your career.”

“But you want her back, don’t you?” she asked. A pause. If she’d read him right...

“We get to pick the time, and the place and who is there.”

“What?” she said, “That’s…”

“Take it or leave it.”

“...Very well.”

“Tomorrow. Dusk. Dulcinea. You, and Hanamura will come with Futaba to Dulcinea. As a show of good faith, Yukiko will be accompanied by only myself and Ryuji. There will be no police. If I hear that there are police, the deal will be off.”

“...Acceptable.”

“See you then, Shirogane-san.”

The phone cut off, leaving Naoto with a nagging sensation that she was missing something.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ Why had Nametame gone after people on the TV? _

_ It hadn’t made sense. _

_ In fact, it was insane, was what it was, and all evidence so far showed him to be displaying some form of psychosis...except that when you spoke to him, one on one, he seemed perfectly calm. Rational, even. _

_ A partner was the only thing that made sense. _

_ What was the name? _

_ Folie à deux. _

_ Madness of two: wherein one partner is sane but infected with the insanity of the other. _


	16. .intermission.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryuji and Yusuke talk. Haru has gifts for everyone.

Preparations were underway, and Yusuke felt like all his nerves were being dragged over hot wires.

“Just talk to him,” hissed Makoto to him.

“Are you  _ mad _ , woman?” whispered Yusuke back, “Do you  _ know _ how long we’ve been fighting?”

“Two months, three weeks, five days and four hours.”

Yusuke paused.

“That...could be close to correct, actually.”

“I  _ know _ because every time we end up having a spar he has to cry on my shoulder about how you won’t  _ talk _ to him,  _ sleep  _ with him  _ or even  _ **_look_ ** _ at him anymore _ , so for god’s sake,  _ talk to the man _ .”

There was a silence as Yusuke looked away from Makoto, a muscle working in his jaw.

“...Fine. As you wish.”

He felt her swing herself over the bar, tangle her fingers with his, and press a warm kiss to his jaw.

“You’ll be fine. You always are.”

“Hm.”

As he turned, he saw Ryuji set down another stack of cloth-wrapped canvases.

“I think that’s the last of your paintings,” he said, in the clipped, professional tone he’d been using the few times the two had talked, “Go upstairs; let me know if I missed any.”

For a second, Yusuke’s throat tightened; it occurred to him that this might actually be the most words Ryuji had said to him at once, and he barely heard any of them. He let his eyes drift over the pile of paintings.

“That...looks about right, but I will be sure to check,” he finally ground out.

Ryuji nodded.

“I got other stuff to check, with Akira. Then it’s showtime.”

Before Ryuji could leave, Yusuke grabbed his arm.

“Huh? Yusuke…” For a moment, there was a look of almost painful hope in Ryuji’s eyes.

“Ryuji, I...I am sorry,” said Yusuke.

The hope closed off; the darkness was back.

“You know what I want, Yusuke,” said Ryuji, “And it’s not an apology.” He turned away, dragging his arm from Yusuke with a painful finality. Yusuke grabbed it back, feeling the words rush out of him.

“Ryuji, if something goes wrong tomorrow…!”

There it was; that thread that stretched between them;  _ if something goes wrong tomorrow… _

“I ain’t gonna die,” said Ryuji, “Or get captured. Got too much riding on this.”

His back was turned to Yusuke, so he couldn’t see Ryuji’s face, but there was tension along every line of his muscles. Hesitant,  _ knowing _ at least one of the girls was watching, Yusuke walked over and embraced Ryuji from behind.

“I don’t...I don’t want you dying without me...without me saying it…” mumbled Yusuke into Ryuji’s hair.

He felt Ryuji’s smile.

“Here’s an idea then: save it for after.”

“ _ Damn it _ , Ryuji, stop acting so cavalier and admit you’re frightened!” he demanded into hair that smelled of pine and beeswax.

“Frightened? I’m terrified.” He felt Ryuji turn, “But if I know I’ve got you and Makoto waiting, then I’m hardly gonna let something as weak as  _ death _ or  _ the law _ stop me, now, am I?”

Yusuke felt strange; light and trembly, like he hadn’t since he first realized the Sayuri depicted his mother. Like he was about to cry; but he  _ never _ cried…

“ _ Boooooys _ !” sang a familiar voice; Haru. Yusuke’s head snapped around. Haru saw the position the two were in, flushed a brilliant scarlet and immediately bowed, “Uh...should I come back…?”

“Haru, you dummy!” snapped Ann, “You ruined it! They were being  _ soooooo _ cute!”

Yusuke and Ryuji both glared at Ann.

“Apparently we are the current entertainment,” commented Yusuke dryly.

“Oh, better make it worth their time, then,” said Ryuji, with a couple of eyebrow raises.

“Please don’t,” said Makoto standing up from next to Ann, “Your lascivious face always makes me feel nauseous.”

“ _ Aaaaanyway _ !” said Haru, “I have gifts for everyone! I hope you like them!” she winked cheerily, and went about passing out little packages in brown paper and twine.

“This is really happening, isn’t it?” said Ryuji, looking at what was in his hands.

“Yes,” said Yusuke. He grabbed Ryuji’s hand, “Come back to me. Come back to all of us, when this is done.”

Ryuji smiled at him in a way Yusuke hadn’t seen since they were both teenagers.

“I will. I promise.”

“Ryuji!” called Akira, “We’ve got stuff to move! Come on!” Ryuji rolled his eyes and Yusuke felt a dark chuckle bubble up.

“Coming master!” he called. As the girls giggled, Ryuji gave a cavalier grin, and pressed a kiss to Yusuke’s open wrist.

“I’ll see you at the meeting place,” he said, “Send a prayer to the river gods for me.”

“You don’t believe in the river gods,” said Yusuke dryly.

“Yeah, but, you know, can’t hurt, right?”

“ _ Ryuji _ !” called Akira, louder this time. When he emerged and saw the two, his only comment was an exasperated sigh that sounded suspiciously like, “ _ Finally _ ,” and to walk away, trailing Haru behind him.


	17. Gathering Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The exchange goes down, albeit not as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness of this chapter; I was indisposed yesterday. But in any case, I'm still not 100% pleased with how this came out. I may come back at a later date and rewrite some of these later, shorter chapters; we'll see how things pan out.

The sun was starting to set, painting the sky above Tokyo brilliant shades of fiery red and orange. Dulcinea’s neon sign was off, a series of slick grey curves faintly outlined against the red brick of the bar.

“Red sky at night,” said Yu absently himself.

“That’s an English poem, ain’t it?” said Kanji, massaging his still-sore hand. Yu nodded.

“Tomorrow should be fine weather.”

“Well, there’s a good omen, at least,” said Yosuke. Naoto frowned.

They were all gathered outside of Dulcinea, waiting to head in. Rise and Chie were busy attaching wires to Yosuke and Naoto, to their former’s irritation and the latter’s resignation; Yosuke kept slapping Rise’s hands and arguing softly with her, while Naoto and Chie rolled their eyes. 

Futaba was still sitting in the back of one of their cars; Naoto had tried to explain the plan to her, with minimal success.

“We’ll be outside,” said Yu, “The instant we get a good idea where they are, me and the boys will be right in through the back and sides, ready to arrest them,” he nodded his head to the police officers, every one of whom was hiding in alleyways and shadows out of sight.

Naoto twisted her mouth, a frown line still evident on her forehead.

“Naoto,” said Yu in an undertone, “What’s wrong?”

“Something about this setup bothers me,” she said, “But I can’t think what. It’s been driving me mad all day.”

“Well, you are entirely at the mercy of ruthless killers,” said Yu dryly, “And you’re the only one in there with combat experience.”

“Hmm,” said Naoto, “You’re right. Maybe that is it.” The look of intensity didn’t leave her face. Instead, she turned and crisply knocked on the window of the car Futaba was sitting in, causing her to jump and squeal, “Futaba-chan, time to move.”

“Don’t wanna go!” said Futaba.

Naoto sighed, opened the door, bent down and gently took Futaba’s hands.

“And you won’t. This is...a trick. Like magicians do. Misdirect. They’ll be so focussed on trying to get you back, they won’t realize that we’re busy planning an ambush to grab them. You see? We’re not really giving you to them, just like a magician never really gives you a choice when you’re asked to pick a card. Do you understand?”

Futaba sat there and slowly nodded.

“Misdirection. Forced choices. Sleight of hand. Yes, I understand.”

Naoto gave her a smile.

“Very well, then. Let’s go.”

-

The bar was dark save for a single light shining directly in their path, bright as a spotlight.

Feeling uneasy, Naoto led Futaba and Yosuke into the spotlight.

“Hello?” she called, “Kurusu-san. We’re here, just as you requested.”

There was a click and another spotlight came on, showing Kurusu and Sakamoto; just behind them, in the shadows, was a figure that looked suspiciously like Yukiko.

“Shirogane-san. How very punctual of you. Not too busy doing your hair or applying makeup?”

Naoto felt the jab hit home; even after all these years, to be reminded of her sex so coarsely made her want to crawl into a tiny little ball and die.

-

Yu, Kanji, Rise and Chie sat outside, listening eagerly to the radio as dusk settled and Naoto, Yosuke and Futaba entered Dulcinea. First there was just the sound of Dulcinea’s door opening, then their footsteps, ringing heavily on the wood of the floor. There was something odd about that, Yu thought; as if the sound quality of the bar had changed. Then again, it was empty of people, bar the six who would be there; maybe that was what it was.

_ “Hello? Kurusu-san. We’re here, just as you requested.” _ said Naoto’s voice on the radio.

_ “Shirogane-san. How very punctual of you. Not too busy doing your hair or applying makeup?”  _ Kurusu’s voice came in easy and clear, as if he were projecting from a stage.

Kanji winced; he could practically  _ feel _ how Naoto’s shoulders would go up around her ears at that, and see the angry flush.

-

“Th-th-that’s neither here nor there. Show us Yukiko.” Yosuke beside her felt tense, as did Futaba.

“As you wish.”

Yukiko stepped forward demurely.

“Yukiko!” called Yosuke.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here!” said Naoto.

-

_ “Th-th-that’s neither here nor there. Show us Yukiko.” _

_ “As you wish.” _

There was a sound of footsteps. Rise was shivering and biting her lip; the warm night suddenly felt too cold for words.

_ “Yukiko!” _

_ “Don’t worry, we’ll get you out of here!” _

Silence. Was...Yukiko not frightened? Or gagged, perhaps? Chie’s face was pale and drawn in the gathering twilight.

-

But something was wrong. She wasn’t tied up. She wasn’t gagged. She was just...looking at her feet quietly. There were no signs of abuse or struggle; she wore a light cotton dress with long sleeves, but even from here Naoto could see absolutely no signs that she’d been injured or hurt.

“What...what’s going on…?”

“I don’t know!” said Yosuke.

“Maybe that’s something we should be asking you?” said Sakamoto and Naoto felt a chill drop into her stomach. Kurusu touched a finger to his ear where, with a growing horror, Naoto saw he had an earpiece fitted.

“Yusuke says you’ve got police waiting outside. Were you hoping to trap us?”

“No! We just want Yukiko back!” said Yosuke.

“Too late.”

-

_ “What...what’s going on…?” _

Naoto sounded confused. Kanji’s head was tilted, as if he was trying to figure out what had his partner puzzled.

_ “I don’t know!”  _ said Yosuke, sounding just as puzzled.

_ “Maybe that’s something we should be asking you?”  _ said Sakamoto.

_ “What do you mean?” _

There was a strange crackle that made all four wince from their headsets briefly.

_ “Yusuke says you’ve got police waiting outside. Were you hoping to trap us?” _

_ “No! We just want Yukiko back!” _

_ “Too late.” _

-

There was then a bang - a gunshot - and a sudden heat that even the four outside felt as Dulcinea went up in flames.

-

_ Fifteen years ago… _

_ The bang of Nametame’s body hitting the floor was as loud as a gun, and it took seconds before Dojima ran in to see Yu standing over him, holding his shirt, screaming in his face, demanding to have Nanako back. _

_ It wasn’t enough. _

_ It wasn’t ever enough. _


	18. Returns and Escapes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dulcinea goes up in flames.

Naoto started to realize something was wrong when Yukiko looked frightened, but unwilling to move, even taking strength from Kurusu’s presence; she realized something else was wrong when she realized Futaba  _ wasn’t frightened _ .

And that’s when the final piece dropped into place. The thing that had been bothering her  _ all day _ .  _ Why had Kurusu _ …

And then he drew a gun and fired on Futaba.

The girl folded quickly against Yosuke, and Sakamoto held up a remote control - of the type used in electrical engineering - hit a button - and within seconds the room was engulfed in ribbons of flame.

_ The...the walls and upper floors...were doused in a chemical...the button must have activated some sort of ignition spark _ …

But Naoto’s brain was short circuiting as she scrambled, with Yosuke and Futaba, who had a serious limp, to get out of Dulcinea, now ribboned in vivid red and orange. A quick glance at Yosuke and Futaba showed that Yosuke was holding Futaba to his side and blood was leaking out between his fingers.

For a brief, mad second, Naoto turned back toward Kurusu and Sakamoto, and had a brief glimpse of them doing - something - but then part of the roof collapsed, sheltering them from view, and she felt Yosuke grab her hand and drag her toward the entrance.

Leaning on each other, as if they were in some strange, six-legged man contest, the three escaped the front door in an explosion of flame and smoke as the fire  _ boomed _ around them.

In an instant, police were there, patting out the flames on their clothes and hair, getting them water to drink, helping them cough up, and, when the firefighters and ambulance crew arrived, holding oxygen masks up to their faces to help them breathe.

For a while, everything was murky, fuzzy, gray, intercut with memories of vivid red, Yosuke and Futaba’s ash-strewn faces, and redness pouring over Yosuke and Futaba’s interlaced fingers. Then slowly, reality started to surge back, and she saw…

A face. Blonde hair; piercings; an odd scar above the eyebrow line. Kanji.

“Kanji,” she whispered, reaching out a strangely heavy arm to brush against his cheek.

“Naoto,” he said, “What happened?”

In an instant, she remembered everything; the fire, the revelation, the gunshot.

“Where is Futaba?” she asked, “ _ Where is she _ ?”

“Hey,” said Kanji, “Hey, hey, hey...hold your horses. What’s going on?”

“No, this is of  _ utmost importance _ \- where  _ is _ she?”

“Her and Yosuke took an ambulance to the hospital to get her treated. She’s gonna be fine.”

Despair took over.

“We lost,” she mumbled, “We...we lost.”

-

Fire blossomed up Dulcinea in ribbons so quickly it had to be set, and in an instant Kanji was up, tossing his jacket aside and getting ready to run in and find Naoto; it took all of Yu and Chie’s combined strength to stop him from committing what was rapidly looking like suicide.

Rise was on her phone in an instant, calling an ambulance and fire truck to the scene, but all of them fell silent in horror as the roof collapsed; Kanji let out a faint moan of despair.

Suddenly, the door burst open in a bulge of fire and smoke, and out collapsed Naoto, Yosuke and Futaba, all covered in ash and flamelets. The four rushed forward to start dousing fire on hair and clothes, even as with a sudden  _ BOOM _ of air, the fire surged, eagerly devouring what was left of the bar.

The fire department arrived and with it, oxygen masks for Naoto, Futaba and Yosuke; when an ambulance arrived, Yosuke indicated, wearily, that he’d go with Futaba, who had apparently taken a gunshot for him.

The two were bundled into the ambulance as Kanji sat over Naoto, who was still drifting in and out of consciousness, before her eyes suddenly cleared.

“Kanji,” she mumbled, stroking his cheek.

“Naoto,” he said, eyes wide and searching.

Something transformed in her face, going from distant and weary to suddenly, strangely intense.

“Where is Futaba?” she asked, “ _ Where is she _ ?”

“Hey,” said Kanji, gathering her into his arms, “Hey, hey, hey...hold your horses. What’s going on?”

“No, this is of  _ utmost importance _ \- where  _ is _ she?”

Yu and Chie exchanged glances. That tone was of such intensity it was frightening.

“Her and Yosuke took an ambulance to the hospital to get her treated,” said Yu evenly, “She’s gonna be fine.”

Naoto closed her eyes and slammed a fist onto the bench on which she sat, and mumbled something to herself.

“What was that?” asked Chie in a near-snarl, “ _ What did you say _ ?”

Naoto ripped her oxygen mask and turned to Chie, snarling back in her face.

“ _ We’ve. Lost _ . Did you hear me, Satonaka? They’re gone, so is Futaba, so is Yosuke. They’re all  _ gone _ .”

“No.  _ You’ve _ lost, Shirogane,” snapped Chie, “This was  _ your _ plan,  _ your  _ idea,  _ your _ case.  _ You _ dragged us into this, and now Yukiko is gone because of you!”

“That’s enough, Chie!” said Yu, turning toward her.

“Don’t say ‘we’!” continued Chie, now starting to cry, “Don’t say ‘we’ lost when  _ you _ were the one leading us  _ wrong _ !”

“And what did  _ you _ do beside sulk about Yukiko!” said Rise, outright weeping, “What did  _ you _ do to help?!”

“ _ She _ thought she could do something, catch the killers no one else had caught and  _ she was wrong _ !” yelled Chie.

“Stop it, Chie!” said Kanji, “Stop it! We’re done. We’re done.”

They all turned to watch as Dulcinea burned.

“We’re done,” said Kanji.

They stayed there, together, as, despite the best efforts of the fire department, the tiny bar burnt to the ground, and the team only left when it was glowing embers.


	19. And They All Lived...?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after Dulcinea burned, Naoto and Yu return to talk over what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really, really bad at original names, so I barely even tried. See if you can spot where they're from (hint: check Ryuji's chapter from His Unseen Choirs. Helps if you have an interest in '90s anime).

Dulcinea, what had once been vibrant, neon-lit, full of life, was now gray ash, some still smoldering in the early morning light. Though the day was bright and sunny, it seemed like the remains of Dulcinea lived in a different world; a world of gray skies and ash clouds and personal accusations.

That was where Yu Narukami stood today, staring at nothing, thinking slowly.

Naoto had realized something that night. Something connected to Futaba, just before Kurusu shot her (shot  _ at _ her?). Hence her panic upon realizing that she didn’t know where Futaba was. 

And there had been something else strange about that night. The language used was...it wasn’t  _ natural _ . Sakamoto and Kurusu had always exuded a certain air of confidence, but their voices had skittered that night, as if they were reading from a script.

As if they were well aware their lives were in the balance.

His foot caught on something, interrupting his train of thought. Lost, he started absently digging in the rubble and the ash.

“I thought I would find you here,” said Naoto, startling him, “Are you doing okay?”

“No,” admitted Yu, sitting down, hands still stained by ash.

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them.

“...Was Yosuke in on it?” he asked.

Naoto gave him that nod, the one that from her was like a round of applause.

“Yes. That was what I realized;  _ why ask for Yosuke _ ? That was a singularly strange choice. If they wanted to upset the barrel, they knew enough about us to pick someone Futaba  _ didn’t _ get along with, thereby putting us at odds and making the whole thing difficult. Or, they could have picked you or Chie; both of you dislike the Phantom Thieves and they know what your weak points are, and would have had the upper hand in any negotiation. So  _ why pick Yosuke _ ?”

“Because they need Yosuke to look after Futaba,” answered Yu wearily, “They need him to make sure you don’t suspect it’s a sting. And they need him to make sure it all goes as smoothly as possible.”

“The one thing I wasn’t counting on,” said Naoto, “That I’d be the only person in the building who was  _ not _ on their side.”

“The whole thing was scripted,” said Yu, stretching, “As scripted as a plaaa - what the?!”

In leaning back, he’d rested his hand on some of the floorboards, and his hand had gone straight through them with an echoing bang. What he and Naoto saw made both their eyes widen.

“I think,” said Naoto slowly, “We now know why Dulcinea burned up as quickly as it did.”

Yu stood up.

“Where will they go?”

She stared at him for a second.

“After  _ all of this _ , you want to pursue them?”

“Of course!” said Yu heatedly. Naoto shook her head.

“That was never the point, Yu. They never engaged us to beat us. They engaged us to fake their deaths. So let them go.”

She kicked some debris over the hole Yu had made.

“And what about Yukiko? What about Yosuke? Do their families deserve to think they’re dead?”

Naoto smiled.

“I think we can put on the report that Yukiko and Yosuke took unexpected leaves of absence following the conclusion of the case, and that they are both resting for their health in...let’s see...San Francisco.”

Yu stared at her.

“That is in no way the truth.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

“But…”

“And do you think the families  _ want _ to hear the truth?” said Naoto, her eyes suddenly intense and piercing, “That Yukiko and Yosuke befriended and helped the Phantom Thieves, the most dangerous criminals in Japan, fake their deaths and escape Tokyo? That we  _ don’t know _ where they are?”

“Akechi will know where they are!”

“If you think Goro will tell you, feel free to ask.”

Yu closed his mouth, made a hiss of frustration through his teeth, and looked away.

“That’s what I thought. Relax, Narukami. Wherever they are, I don’t think they’re going to bother us.”

“Why?” said Yu.

Naoto looked at the remains of Dulcinea and smiled.

“Did you read the fire report yet?”

Yu blinked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Current reports say the fire was deliberately set to collapse in the roof between ourselves and the Phantom Thieves. The fire was also deliberately set in such a way that the safest route of exit - the entrance we came out of - would take the longest time to burn. They could have immolated us. They didn’t.”

“And  _ that’s _ enough for you to let bygones be bygones?” snapped Yu.

Naoto shrugged.

“Yes. I mean, it’s not like I have a  _ choice _ , Yu. Either I say they died in the fire, or we all become a government laughing stock.”

Yu chewed his lip.

“You understand, don’t you?”

-

_ Elsewhere, in Yasoinaba… _

-

“I’m boooooored,” whined Futaba, sitting on Yosuke’s bed.

“I know you are,” said Yosuke, “I’m sorry. Internet out here is kinda crap. But you also know we have to wait a bit until we can meet up with the others, right?”

Futaba sighed and fell back on her bed, wincing a little.

“How’s the bruise?”

“ _ Sore _ ,” she whimpered.

“Yeah, Takemi-san said it would be tender for a while. Want me to get some ice for it?” asked Yosuke sympathetically.

“Hmm-mmm.”

Yosuke was gone for a bit, while Futaba stared out the window, at the greenness of Inaba.

“Here you go,” said Yosuke, producing an ice pack for Futaba’s hip and helping her settle it.

“Thank you,” she said, “Yooooosuke?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I made your friend punch the wall.”

Yosuke blinked, a little surprised at that.

“Naaaaah, don’t worry about it, Kanji used to do that kinda shit all the time when we were teenagers. Just kinda a surprise to see him suddenly do that when he’s, you know, all mature and stuff.”

“Okay,” said Futaba, still sounding a bit down, before bouncing up, ice held in place with one hand, “So! How are we getting there?”

“Train, silly,” said Yosuke, sitting next to her with his usual wry grin, “Though, of course, it won’t be Yosuke Hanamura and Futaba Sakura catching the train; it’ll be…” he took out the brown paper packages Haru had given them, “Akito Tenkawa and Ruri Amamiya.”

Futaba frowned.

“You don’t  _ look _ like an Akito.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t look like a Ruri, we’ll just have to make it work, won’t we,” he said, playfully tweaking her nose again. She gasped and squeaked, before falling into giggles and leaning against Yosuke’s side.

Maybe, one day, they’d all forgive him. In the meantime, as a penance, this wasn’t so bad.


	20. Vox Nihili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the fire from the perspective of the Phantom Thieves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCBA = self-contained breathing apparatus.

“Too late,” said Akira, and raised his gun.

It took all of his effort to shoot Futaba; even knowing that his gun was loaded with rubber bullets, that Yosuke had a blood pack in his hand that he’d press to her, that she wasn’t really  _ hurt _ , it still frightened him. He was glad the way they were lit meant that any tears that slipped down his face were hidden.

He pulled the trigger, and heard Futaba’s tiny, muffled cry, but not before he felt Ryuji hit the button to ignite  _ Dulcinea _ .

The instant that happened, several key things started happening.

Yukiko reached behind her and pulled out her breathing mask; she’d been shuffling slowly due to the weight of her SCBA tank and to stop it from being seen. With her mask secure, she helped Akira and Ryuji get their SCBA tanks and masks on.

All three of them looked across in time to see Naoto try to reach for them.

“No, Naoto,” he heard Yukiko whisper, “Don’t…”

Fortunately, at that moment, the ceiling gave way.

“We can’t open the basement!” yelled Ryuji over the fire, “Futaba, Hanamura and Naoto might get caught in the flames!”

“How much air do we have?” shouted Akira back.

“The tanks hold enough for half an hour,” shouted Yukiko, “But we don’t have that time, we’ll cook!”

“We have to risk it!” yelled Akira, and wrenched open the basement latch, even as Ryuji reached for him shouting, “Akira, don’t!”.

There was a flood of clean air into the Dulcinea, and the fire around them  _ boomed _ . As it did, Akira felt his glove give way - it was meant to be  _ Ryuji _ opening the basement latch, not him, so he hadn’t put much thought into the gloves he wore, and now they were melting onto his hands as he bit back a scream. Yukiko dropped first, eyes wide; then Ryuji behind her; then Akira fell into the darkness, hands aching as the latch fell shut.

A torch flickered on.

“You can take your masks off,” said Makoto, “The drainage system is steel here and there’s a shunt to the next street over; we’ll be walking for a way, until we reach the G-Cans, where everyone else is waiting.”

“Won’t the steel heat up?” asked Yukiko, flushed, as she shrugged her tank off and helped Ryuji with his.

“Well, Futaba’s calculations say no, but it’s probably not best to wait around,” said Makoto, helping Akira out of his tank.

“Akira, your hand,” said Yukiko.

The hand he’d used to open the basement door was blistered, red and swollen, and Akira himself was looking faint and pale, his lips a strange bluish color.

“He’s going into shock,” said Makoto, “But we don’t have time to treat him; we have to move.”

“Here,” said Ryuji, passing over a long leather coat, “Akira and I stored a whole bunch of warm stuff down here in case the night was cold. Wrap ‘im up in these.”

Awkwardly, they bundled Akira up, while Yukiko reached into a pocket of her cotton dress and pulled out some skin ointment and started to dress his burned hand.

“We need to move,” said Makoto, “You can cure and move at the same time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Yukiko, leading Akira awkwardly through the tunnel.

The walk was long and treacherous, through damp, steel canals and down long, winding ladders, until they emerged in…

“What...is...this place?” asked Yukiko, eyes wide.

“The Metropolitan Discharge Canal,” said Makoto with a smile, “You didn’t think we’d pick just  _ any _ place to be our bar?”

It was huge, hewn out of white stone, and lit, distantly, far above, with tiny white lights. Evenly spaced were massive pillars that dwarfed tree trunks; the very space seemed to swallow up every noise she made with the huge, rushing sound of a river colliding around her. It reminded her of the mines in Inaba, but where they’d been dark and closed in, this was bright and open.

She’d heard they were meeting in a temple.

This place might  _ be _ a drainage system, but it  _ felt _ holy.

“ _ Ryuji _ !” said a voice. It was Yusuke, running forward, face pale and drawn and tight.

“Oh, hey, Yusuke…” Ryuji barely finished his greeting before Yusuke had grabbed him and pulled him into a tight, intense kiss.

“You miserable, terrible, awful man,” he hissed, “Don’t you  _ dare _ frighten me like that.”

“Now wait a second,” said Ryuji, grinning lazily, “I thought you were gonna say something  _ else _ .”

Yusuke made a face.

“You  _ did _ promise,” said Ann.

“I don’t believe this,” said Yusuke, “Do I really  _ need _ to? Isn’t it  _ obvious _ ?”

“Sometimes obvious things need to be stated,” commented an amused Makoto.

“You can make it your blessing before the river gods,” teased Yukiko.

“...Fine.” said Yusuke, “Ryuji Sakamoto, you have an atrocious sense of aesthetics…”

“Correct.”

“...you regularly get yourself injured for no reason…”

“Guilty as charged.”

“...and you  _ snore _ …”

“Hardly my fault.”

“...but  _ for some reason _ ...I love you.”

“‘Bout fucking time,” said Ryuji, who grabbed Yusuke by the front of his shirt and kissed him.

“About. Damn. Time.” snapped Akira, voice still a little dazed, “Now, let’s move on.”

“Wait,” said Yukiko, “We should leave something to the river gods. As thanks, for safe passage.”

Everyone paused and looked at Yukiko, before smiling warmly. Makoto brought out a bottle of water to allow everyone to wash their hands. As well as a few yen, everyone left personal items of the lives they would be abandoning here.

Yukiko left a red hair ribbon.

Yusuke left a dried-out paintbrush.

Ryuji left a broken buckle.

Haru left a tube of red lipstick.

Ann left some bright hairpins.

Makoto left her motorcycle keys.

And Akira was going to leave his cufflinks, but paused.

In the distance, the feral black cat that had followed him since he arrived at Tokyo was watching him, notched ears and broken tail raised high. It bared its teeth in a hiss, saliva dripping from its fangs, then turned and vanished into the shadows, and Akira felt something indelible inside himself change; not a vanishing of the darkness, not a removal of it. Just an altering. As if a fear had lifted and purpose replaced it.

He looked down and gently placed his cufflinks among the pile of items soon to be forgotten, then took out the passport and driver’s license with his new identity, nodded to Haru, and the group continued through the passageway.

“Next stop, Osaka!” whooped Ryuji.

On the bullet train, Akira rested his head in Haru’s lap as Yukiko continued to treat his hand, and Ann propped his feet up, and he smiled faintly at Yukiko’s frown.

“Yuki-chan…”

“Akira?” she said.

“I was thinking…”

“You should rest.”

“...Yusuke did a good day’s work when he offered to bring you to us.”

Yukiko smiled suddenly, brilliantly, and Akira felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major apologies here: I planned how the Phantoms escape waaaaaaay back when I first started planning the whole fic out, but somewhere around chapter seventeen I did a bit more investigation and found that the Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Tunnel they escape through - which is, indeed, structured to look like a temple (seriously, google it, it's stunning) - is actually located in the Saitama Prefecture, not Tokyo City. By that point though, I couldn't think of another, better way for them to get out that tied into the themes I'd set up so...we're stuck with an incorrect one for now. Again, sorry.  
> Also, just gonna acknowledge right here, rubber bullets are very, very bad. Fanfiction Logic states that Akira is a good enough shot to use them and not risk killing or maiming Futaba; Real World Logic states he's an idiot. Please do not fire rubber bullets at people. They can kill very nastily.


	21. Epistolary: In Words and Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Investigation Team seek closure.

_ Yu _

He sat at his desk at the police station and, for a long moment, stared at nothing in particular.

Then he opened the top drawer - the one with the key lock - and took out the few mementoes he kept; a pair of pink hair ties, and a photo of him and Yukiko, in happier times.

For a long moment, he stared at them, feeling oddly like he was a teenager again, in the rain, wanting,  _ desperately _ , to undo all the events of the last year and make it not real, and found himself wondering if it was better to miss someone who was dead and could never come back, or someone who was alive and had chosen to never return.

With a heavy sigh, he took out a pen and paper, and started to compose two letters: one to Yosuke, one to Yukiko.

Three hours later, he was no closer to anything resembling coherence.

 

_ Chie _

After all the hustle and bustle of Tokyo, it was a relief to return to Inaba.

She found herself gazing out the window for a long moment, up the hill where Yukiko’s family would be trying to run the inn without her, and finding themselves incapable. She wondered what they’d do, then decided it didn’t matter.

Then she went to her bedroom, and took out a pile of polaroids; she’d intended to put them into a sensible photo album someday, but ‘someday’ had never really happened. Here was her and Yukiko as children; here was them at karaoke; here was them on their first day at high school; here was them in yukata at the summer festival; here was Chie crying as she went off to police academy. So many little memories, kaleidoscopic, fluttering through her fingers like butterflies.

Sitting on her balcony, she took a lighter out of her pocket, and started to systematically work her way through each photo, burning them until they were mostly ash, and the soft, warm, South wind caught them out of her fingers and carried them away. The air smelled of burned plastic and paper, and while Chie didn’t feel totally better, she felt now that maybe, just maybe, she could make a start.

 

_ Rise _

Her first day back at the studio, Rise burst into tears in every song.

Her second day back, Rise screamed when she heard a loud noise.

Her third day, Rise insisted on working from home.

She sat on her bed in pyjamas, and started writing a song for Yukiko. The theme would be ‘Friendship’. Then she wrote another song for Yosuke. And then a song for both of them. That theme would be ‘Forgiveness’, though not for them - for  _ her _ , for missing whatever it was they both so desperately needed and found with the Phantom Thieves.

Then she wrote a song for herself called ‘Reflection’ about meeting Ann.

Rise Kujikawa would make  _ beauty _ out of this mess.

That was who she was.

She knew it now, at least.

 

_ Kanji _

Kanji received an email, shortly after his hand fully healed up, just before the fashion show was due to begin.

It was from Akechi.

 

_ Tatsumi-kun, _

 

_ I have requests from five very lovely ladies - who would prefer to remain anonymous - that you tailor their yukata for the coming season. The requested colors and measurements are below. _

 

_ Yours, _

_ Akechi. _

 

The colors and measurements matched up with those of the Phantom Thieves and Yukiko.

Kanji grinned, sent an affirmative response, and felt whole.

 

_ Naoto _

Not long after she made her report to the police (and received the expected reprimand), Naoto came home to Kanji idly sewing an obi.

“Kanji?” said Naoto, “I was thinking.”

“Hmm.” His mouth was full of needles.

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” he mumbled back.

“Would you like to get married?”

“Extra miso for me, please,” he replied.

Naoto smiled and waited for her words to sink in. The effect was striking as every pin and needle fell out of his mouth and the obi dropped from his fingers and his head slowly jerked up.

“Whu...what did you say?”

“I asked if you would like to get married,” repeated Naoto, “Now that the case is closed, I’ll be riding a desk, so my previous concerns over marrying you seem rather silly.”

Kanji took a deep breath, gently placed his work aside, then walked slowly over and grasped Naoto by the shoulders.

“You ain’t doin’ this just to make me happy?”

“ _ Of course _ I’m doing this to make you happy,” said Naoto dryly. She smiled, “And because I would like to marry you.”

“Well, I mean, Naoto, you...you know I wanna marry you but…”

Naoto wrapped her arms loosely around his waist.

“Kanji?”

“Yeah?”

“Say you’ll marry me and give me a kiss.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

-

_ Yosuke _

An email popped into his email eventually from Yu.

All it said was

_ Are we still friends? _

Yosuke stared at it for a while.

Futaba, who was in the train seat next to him, however, snatched the phone from his grip.

“Hey, Futaba…!”

“You’re making this more difficult than you need to,” she scolded, quickly typing.

When Yosuke got it back, he saw that she had sent a simple reply.

_ Of course we are. Next time I’m around we’ll meet up, I promise. _

Yosuke felt a very slow smile start on his face, and eventually it evolved into a grin.

“I ever tell you you’re a genius?”

“Frequently,” she chirped, “And I am. We love you and want you, Yosuke, but we’re not gonna keep you from your friends.”

“Good. Now let’s get some food.”

“Yay!”

 

_ Yukiko _

When they reached their home in Osaka, Yukiko’s first act was to buy pen and paper and to start constructing a letter.

_ Dear friends, _

_ I love you all. But I could not stay where I was. _

_ One day, perhaps, I will return to Inaba and retake my place at the Inn, but until then, this is where I need to be. Somewhere where there are no expectations and no limits. Where I can learn who I really am. _

_ Please forgive me. _

“Is it enough?” she asked Yusuke.

“Of course it is,” he said, kissing her forehead, “It’s you asking. It’s always enough.”

She copied it out four times and sent it on.

Kanji and Naoto keep their copy on the fridge; Rise uses hers as a bookmark; Chie keeps it by her bed; and Yu keeps his in his desk drawer.

A little piece of hope.


	22. .epilogue: leblanc, one year later.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year later, Naoto visits leblanc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I was going to wait to post this but then I went 'eh, I've got it written and edited, it's a nice weekend, you've all been good readers, let's finish this monster off'.

_ Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, _

_ Their homely joys and destiny obscure; _

_ Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile _

_ The short and simple annals of the poor. _

 

_ The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r, _

_ And all that that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, _

_ Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour. _

_ The paths of glory lead but to the grave. _

-Thomas Gray ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’

 

A bell rang in the dark.

“Akechi-kun,” rumbled Sojiro from where he sat, cigarette in one limp hand, “You have a customer.”

“On it, Sakura-san,” said Goro cheerfully, “What can I get you...oh.”

Naoto smiled at Goro as she settled at the bar.

“Ah...Tatsumi-san?”

“Shirogane,” corrected Naoto gently, “And please call me Naoto.”

Goro quirked a smile.

“Naoto. What can I get you?”

“The house blend please.”

There was a comfortable silence as Goro busied himself making the coffee, before presenting it to her. Naoto took a sip and sighed.

“I should come here more often when I’m in Tokyo.”

“You haven’t come since that nasty business last year with  _ Dulcinea  _ burning.” commented Goro.

“Mmm. No. Might I have a moment alone?” The last was addressed, politely (albeit firmly) to Sojiro, who shrugged, and left.

“What is it?” asked Goro.

“How are they?” Naoto asked, “I get occasional letters and emails from Yukiko and Yosuke, but they’re vague. And I’ve heard no rumors of murders akin to what the Phantom Thieves used to get up to. Have they stopped?”

“I don’t think they’ve stopped entirely. I don’t think they know how to. But I think they’ve dispelled their wrath.” replied Goro, “As to Yukiko and Yosuke, I hear from them occasionally. They seem to be fine. They are...stabilizing influences.”

“And the Phantom Thieves?” asked Naoto intently, “What sort of influence are they?”

“You know better than I would, Naoto,” answered Goro, “I mean, that  _ is _ why you’re here, isn’t it? There’s something you want from them.”

There was a long pause.

“There are two things I want,” began Naoto slowly, “A favor from Kurusu-san, and an answer from you.”

“The answer is easier than the favor; Akira feels fondly towards you, you know, but that doesn’t mean he will heel on command.”

“I think he will for this. The question I want to know is: why did the Phantom Thieves stop? Why go into hiding? Why allow themselves to gain stabilizing influences?”

“That’s far more than one question.”

“But I suspect it boils down to one answer.”

Akechi leaned back, tapping his teeth with a pen. He looked better these days, thought Naoto privately; less skinny waif, more grown man. There was still an uncomfortable prettiness to him that Naoto suspected attracted a large number of girls, but with a years’ worth of meals and love on him, he looked more like a man than a half-grown child.

“I think they want to see if Japan will take their justice in both hands and run with it.”

“Oh?”

“They have already shown the people of Japan that corruption does not need to be tolerated. It is only a matter of time before Japan starts finding its populace less liable to forgive incidents in which corrupt authorities were allowed to rule.”

“Hmm.”

“And your favor, Naoto?” asked Goro.

Naoto leaned on a hand.

“Many years ago, I helped solve the Nametame case, as you know,” she said, “As you also know, I have always had...doubts...about the case. I recently looked back into it, and my doubts became suspicions when I found that one single detective was responsible for all communications with Taro Nametame leading up to his presumed suicide. One. The same one that proposed a theory that dismissed mine. The same detective that lived by the Samegawa River, along the old mine routes.”

Goro looked at her levelly.

“You have a suspect.”

“I don’t  _ have _ anyone; he hasn’t been seen since the case came to a conclusion. But his last known residence is...”

“They’re not going to leave Osaka for you.”

Naoto looked surprised.

“...His last known residence is Osaka.”

The two looked at each other evenly.

“Divine providence?” offered Goro.

“I prefer sheer dumb luck.”

“What is the detective’s name?”

“Tohru Adachi. I just need him captured and returned to Yasoinaba, where the case has been reopened. I do  _ not _ need him dead.”

“And if he were, say, mauled a little?”

Naoto stared at nothing, but her expression was in lines Goro had never seen before.

“Mauled is fine,” she said, and her voice was not like a person’s voice.

She finished her coffee.

“Thank you, Goro,” she said.

“You remind me of him, you know,” at her puzzled look, he clarified, “Akira. You both think in the same way. Maybe that’s why he was always a step ahead of you.”

She smiled faintly, then gave a brisk farewell.

A bell chimed in the darkness, and Goro started composing a text.

-

See...a different cafe, in a different city; Shin Sekai, in Osaka.

See, tucked away, a small cafe with a rooftop garden, and a couple of extra floors; on the right day, a calligraphy class gets held here by a beautiful woman with long black hair in a glorious red yukata, and it’s rumored a world-famous artist lives in the upper floors. On a different day, a delinquent and a woman with the bearing of a queen teach self-defence. They never advertise; the classes spread simply by word of mouth.

See the bottom floors of the cafe, where a handsome man with a burned hand makes coffee alongside the proprietor, a tiny woman with fluffy hair, and the waitress, a statuesque blonde woman with vivid eyes. There is a cat; a tiny, black-and-white housecat, with a few notches on it’s ears, and one of its paws bent back by a fight it was one the wrong side of. It meows beautifully and charms many a guest into letting it on their lap. Seeing it seems to be a balm on the soul of the man with the burned hand.

See the tiny girl (woman?) with orange hair and a laptop cheerfully playing games with the older man with messy brown hair. They’re usually in there, and when they are, he works at getting her to talk to the customers. Some days they work as waiter and waitress, and he yells at anybody who treats her badly. Other days they are elsewhere; business has meant that the two have vanished to a backroom filled with computers where the orange haired girl works while the messy haired man makes phone calls.

A bell rings in the darkness, and a voice calls,

“Hey, Amamiya-san! Some of your house blend.”

With a smile that is not a smile, the man with a burned hand turns.

“Good morning, Adachi-san.”

And all paths lead to one end.

 

_ fin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s ‘The Paths of Glory’ done. Much thanks to my lovely commenters (especially those of you tossing out fic ideas).  
> Many of you were guessing a much darker path and ending for this fic, and if I’m honest, when I first envisioned this fic, that was where I wanted to go. But as I started planning it, I found myself more intrigued by the idea of the Phantom Thieves almost as cult leaders or corrupters; that the Investigation Team, in dealing with them was staring into the abyss and the abyss, as the famous quote goes, stared back. This also tied into the notion I frequently teased - if there are no Personas, how has the Investigation Team grown up and what has become of them? I wanted to invite the idea that they had, on a shallow level, accepted their Shadows, but on a deeper level were perhaps still uncomfortable with the inherent conflicts their Shadows introduced. And that opened the door to the Phantom Thieves influencing the members I felt were more amenable to being influenced.  
> Many props to the one commenter who guessed that this would end with Adachi’s death - I always love commenters who guess correctly, it tells me I’m doing something right.  
> I may go back and rewrite sections of this work, as I feel the academic work I was doing at the same time as this overly influenced my writing style. We’ll see.  
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
